XWing: Ambush
by Sherlock
Summary: A novel by Susan Hill: Returning from a routine mission, Wedge Antilles is captured by a Moff who wants revenge for Endor. His friends must band together to save him from certain death...
1. Default Chapter

**From the Author**

First, those interested in reading Iris Bailey's original short story "Retribution" can find it at http://downtime.echostation.com/fanfic/index.htm. Second, I feel that a warning should be posted about some of the content in this story. It may not be appropriate for all readers. Within lie depictions of torture and its effects on the human body. There are also a couple of sexual situations. If you are a child or can't handle reading explicit violence, do not read this story.

**Acknowledgements**

There are three people who were essential in the making of this book, and I would like to take a moment to thank them. First and foremost, Iris Bailey. It is only with her kind permission that this story is being posted at all. "Retribution" was such a great story that I just needed to know more details...so I made them up. Thanks for your support, Iris!

Secondly, Kelly Grosskreutz. Thanks for letting me share my work and returning Corran to the wonderful character he should be. It would have been an injustice on an Imperial scale to have left him the way he was in those Jedi scenes.

And finally, Kanwal Saluja. Without her this story would not only be confusing and inconsistent, but unfinished as well. Thanks for your patience and encouragement, Kanwal. I couldn't have done it without you.

**Disclaimer**

The characters that have appeared in previous Star Wars novels are property of Lucasfilm, Ltd. Captain Amaryl Assay, Admiral Tesh Dorass, First Officer Azzeh, and the name of Tycho's droid belong to the author. Any other characters presented here that have never been seen in a Star Wars novel are property of Iris Bailey. Do not repost anywhere without the permission of the author!

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**Dramatis Personae**

  
**Rogue Squadron**

**  
**General Wedge Antilles (human male from Corellia)  
Colonel Tycho Celchu (human male from Alderaan) Rogue Leader  
Major Wes Janson (human male from Tanaab) Rogue Twelve  
Major Derek "Hobbie" Klivian (human male from Ralltiir) Rogue Eleven  
Captain Corran Horn (human male from Corellia) Rogue Nine  
Captain Gavin Darklighter (human male from Tatooine) Rogue Six  
Lieutenant Ooryl Qyrgg (Gand male from Gand) Rogue Ten  
Lieutenant Myn Donos (human male from Corellia) Rogue Seven  
Lieutenant Inyri Forge (human female from Kessel) Rogue Eight  
Flight Officer Rekdon Pinkar (Devaronian male from Devaron) Rogue Two  
Flight Officer Arata Voran (human male from Berchest) Rogue Three  
Flight Officer Varnestra (Mon Calamari female from Mon Calamari) Rogue Four  
Flight Officer Rehm Shra (Sullustan Male from Sullust) Rogue Five  
Major Bror Jace (human male from Thyferra) Rogue Plus

  
**Rogue Squadron Support Personnel**

  
Captain Nawara Ven (Twi'lek male from Ryloth) Rogue Control  
Shi'dora (Twi'lek female from Ryloth) Chief Mechanic  
Whistler (Corran's R-2 astromech)  
Marca (Tycho's R-5 astromech)  
Gate (Wedge's R-5 astromech)  
Jawaswag (Gavin's R-5 astromech)

  
**New Republic Military**

**  
**Admiral Ackbar (Mon Calamari male from Mon Calamari) Commander-in-Chief of New Republic Armed Forces  
Major Ajene Tuvora (human female from Contruum) Special Forces

**New Republic Intelligence**

**  
**General Airen Cracken (human male from Contruum)  
Captain Garik "Face" Loran (human male from Pantolomin) Wraith Leader  
Lieutenant Kell Tainer (human male from Sluis Van) Wraith Five  
Elscol Loro (human female from Cilpar)  
Sixtus Quinn (human male from Ord Mandel)

  
**Crew of the Pulsar Skate**

**  
**Captain Mirax Terrik Horn (human female from Corellia)  
Crew of the _Errant Venture  
_Captain Booster Terrik (human male from Corellia)  
First Officer Azzeh (Mon Calamari female from Mon Calamari)

  
**Crew of the **_Paladin_

_  
_Captain Amaryl Assay (human male from Thyferra)

  
**Imperial Forces**

**  
**Moff Lathel Tchlinda (human female from Fondor)  
Admiral Osiel Turpa (human male from Commenor)  
Commander Jarice Cright (human male from Coruscant)  
Lieutenant Tonar Heblon (human male from Saluja 4)  
Admiral Tesh Dorass (human male from Kuat) Commander of Qsartun Fleet  


**1**

The canopy of Wedge Antilles' snubfighter opened with a hiss, releasing the atmosphere from within. He removed his helmet and ran his fingers through his sweat matted brown hair, reveling in the cooler air of the hanger. The whine of repulsorlifts cut through the hanger and the smell of hydraulic and cooling fluids rose to his nose. There was a chaotic flow of people throughout the hanger common when a squadron arrived. All of this was familiar to him and more than a little comforting. There was no place that he felt more at home.

A technician put a ladder up against the smooth gray surface of his X-wing. He left his helmet on his pilot's couch and clambered up and over the side. As he descended the ladder, he glanced down the side of his ship, at the long lines of kill silhouettes stenciled there. They ran most of the length of his cockpit in several rows of varying lengths. The technicians who painted the tiny ships had long ago given up trying to represent each and every fighter that he had shot down, so each fighter represented a squadron's worth of kills.

Running alongside those images were the two Death Star representations and more than two dozen half and full capital ships, including several Star Destroyers. But to him it didn't show that he was an exceptional fighter pilot. They symbolized the many years that he had been fighting for the Rebellion, now the New Republic.

_Too many years, _he thought.

"General Antilles?" Shi'dora, Rogue Squadron's Twi'lek chief mechanic, approached him from the rear of his ship. Her lekku, commonly called brain tails, swung loosely behind her as she walked across the hanger towards him.

"Did you have a good trip, sir?" she asked. She ran her hand along the stabilizer of the lower S-foil, watching as her techs started to go over Wedge's ship. When he did not reply right away, she turned to look at him. "Sir?"

"Sorry, I was just thinking about how many years I have been doing this." He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. "Yes, everything went smoothly. Very routine. Quite dull in fact."

"Good. That means less work for us then." She smiled, but when Wedge did not return her smile, she leaned in closer and looked straight into his eyes. "Have you been performing self diagnostics while stuck in hyperspace? I have heard that humans have a tendency to over think things."

She continued to look at him with her dark ruby colored eyes. Wedge resisted the urge to look away. "There's nothing wrong with a little self-evaluation. And speaking of diagnostics, could you look at the port horizontal booster and power couplings? I got a red light on the flight back."

"Yes, sir. I'll have someone look into that immediately." She turned around, tossing him a casual salute, and moved on to the next fighter. She knew that he obviously wanted to change the subject and knew better than to press the matter.

He started towards the exit that led to the rest of the facility. The main base on Coruscant was one of the largest in the New Republic. It spread across dozens of immense buildings, housing not only hangers and operation centers, but also a large part of the military personnel. It was on this base that Wedge had an apartment that he called home. And that was where he was headed.

Crossing the hanger, he nodded to Tycho Celchu, Rogue Squadron's second-in-command. The Colonel nodded back, confirming what they had discussed before landing. He would take care of the squadron details and report back to him later.

Wedge glanced at some of his pilots as he headed out, trying to gauge how they were feeling. Over the last few months they had been reduced to escort duty when they should have been out in the thick of things, defending the New Republic. They were escorting freighters from one backwater system to another and shuttles from ship to ship. They had been very effectively pushed into the background. Only Wedge's return to their ranks had brought their morale back up to acceptable levels. He had been away from the squadron for eight months, leaving Tycho in command. _I was off playing General with the big ships_.

It was not until his return to the squadron a few weeks before that he realized how much he had truly missed flying. While in command of various battle groups or capital ships, his time in a cockpit was limited. And even when he did fly, it was usually in a shuttle or transport. It was at that point he had begun to reconsider the direction his career was taking. He had thought long and hard about it, going around in circles for days and finally ended up back at the place he had started. Rogue Squadron was the only answer.

He had asked, no_, begged_, Admiral Ackbar to return him to what he was best at, the command of a fighter squadron. The Admiral had been forced to agree to his proposal, especially since no new assignment had yet been found for him. He asked to be transferred back to Rogue Squadron.

_And here I am._

He was proud of Rogue Squadron and all they had done, even in his absence. Since he had rebuilt the squadron that Luke Skywalker had founded, they had accomplished much. Including the defeat of Ysanne Isard, almost single handedly taking Coruscant, or Imperial Center as it was called then, from the Empire, and freeing the bacta producing planet Thyferra, averting a plague that would have killed billions. They had been the elite squadron whose name alone put fear into their enemies_. _They had been given the perilous missions, missions that some said were impossible.

He smiled at the thought of Gavin Darklighter, the youngest pilot in his group, stating in a briefing before yet another difficult mission: _But impossible is Rogue Squadron's stock in trade_.

His smile died as another of Gavin's comments came to mind. _And now we're baby-sitting._

Some of his pilots had taken their new duties as an insult, while others couldn't comprehend why they were being so underutilized. He tended to agree a little with both. And he didn't feel that way because he was Wedge Antilles, Hero of the Rebellion. He knew that his people could be much more useful if they were out in the thick of things, making a difference in the war against the remnants of the Empire and various Moffs and Warlords. Others may think that was egotistical, but he knew it was the truth. He knew that his pilots deserved better than this.

Wedge noticed Captain Corran Horn climbing down from his green and black fighter. He was speaking to a nearby tech, making sure that his R2 astromech, Whistler, made it safely to the ground. Next to his wife, Mirax Terrik Horn, there was nothing that Corran cared more about.

Corran was about the same height as Wedge, which was a shade shorter than average. His light brown hair and intense green eyes made him one of the more hologenic of the pilots in the unit. He had been through a lot in his time with the squadron, but it had led him to his wife and to the truth about his heritage. Corran's grandfather had been a Corellian Jedi Master, and he had discovered that the "gut instinct" he had often relied on was his own growing sensitivity to the Force.

Lieutenant Ooryl Qyrgg, his Gand wingman, crossed from his ship to talk to Corran, so Wedge kept walking towards the hatchway, giving them a casual wave as he passed.

Continuing on his way out, Wedge saw Gavin Darklighter climbing up and over the side of his fighter. He felt a dull ache in his chest as he saw the expression on the young man from Tatooine's face. It had been about a year since the death of Asyr Sei'lar, the Bothan pilot that Gavin had planned to spend the rest of his life with. He made a mental note to speak to Tycho on what to do to try and get Gavin turned around.

Wedge smiled at and returned the salutes of several other crewmembers before reaching the exit. Overall he was relieved at what he saw. His pilots seemed to be in good spirits despite their current duties. Of course, the five days of downtime they were about to enjoy couldn't have hurt either.

Wedge finally reached the hatchway and returned the salutes of the New Republic guards posted there. He kept his gait casual, but he couldn't wait to get to his quarters and strip out of his sticky flightsuit.

As he walked down the corridor towards the turbolift, he ran a hand across his face, scratching at the stubble on his chin. He felt weary all over, more than he should after such light duties. He was amazed how tired he could feel after sitting in his cockpit for hours doing very little. But it wasn't only that. There was something more.

Shi'dora was correct in her assessment that he had been doing a lot of thinking during transit. On his way back to Coruscant, something had occurred to him. Today was his thirtieth birthday. He had completely forgotten about his own birthday. And as he sat in the solitude of hyperspace, he realized that the more he thought about it, the more turning thirty was really starting to bother him.

_Am I getting too old for this?_

It was a thought that kept coming into his mind more and more often of late. His birthday was just the latest event that had turned his mind to that subject. He knew that being a hotshot pilot was a job for the young_._

_And just when did you stop thinking of yourself as young?_

He knew that being too old to be a pilot was not the root of his problem, especially since there were pilots in his own squadron, and of lesser rank, who were older than he was. It was almost as if it masked other feelings that he had suppressed.

_Feelings of regret?_

Wedge had been with the Rebellion for most of his adult life. He had smuggled for them and actively joined them after his parents had been killed when he was sixteen.

_That's nearly fourteen years I've devoted to this way of life!_

He had lost everything that had been important to him on Corellia, leaving a void that was hard to fill. Smuggling, then joining the Rebellion, had filled it to a point, giving him a sense of belonging that he craved. But now Rogue Squadron was all that he had left that he really and truly cared about.

He shook his head to try and stay clear of those thoughts. Feeling sorry for himself was not something he wanted to do. He had chosen to join the Rebellion, no one had forced him. And he could have left at anytime had he really wanted to and he hadn't. But he was unhappy, there was no denying that. He just hoped that it did not show on his face. And he prayed that no one had figured out that it was his birthday.

Most pilots didn't like to celebrate their birthdays. It was a superstition that stretched back millennia, he was sure. And there was no group more superstitious than pilots. The problem with birthdays was that they celebrated life, and it served to remind every single pilot that there were many comrades who never again would celebrate another birthday_._

_Not to mention you never know if you'll be celebrating yours again._

No, he decided he just wanted to be alone for a while.

He stopped abruptly in the corridor. "I must be losing my mind!" he said aloud. "Yup, people will be saying 'Remember, General Antilles had that breakdown? That was really sad. He seemed like such a nice, stable man.'" He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then resumed his course towards his quarters, shaking his head most of the way.

* * * * * * *

Wedge finally made it to the quarters that he kept on base, more by habit than by conscious effort. He opened the door and walked in, letting it close automatically behind him with a swoosh of hydraulics. He made sure to lock it.

He crossed the smallish room, stripping off his flightsuit as he went and tossing it over a chair. Reaching his one transparisteel window, he dialed down the opacity until he was in semi-darkness, then headed straight for his bunk.

He knew he should clean up a bit and get something to eat since it was only around mid day, but all he wanted was to sleep. To sleep and to be alone. He fell face first into his bunk, and his thoughts began to fade away.

But one word echoed in his consciousness even as sleep overtook him.

_Alone..._


	2. Chapter 2

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**2**

Wedge had just finally fallen into a restful sleep when he was awakened by a knock at the door to his quarters. He turned over and put his pillow over his head in hopes whoever it was would just go away.

There was another knock, more insistent this time. He removed the pillow from his face and a growl started deep in his throat. "Whoever you are, go away. I'm armed," he shouted in the direction of the door.

The only answer he received was another knock.

"All right, you asked for it." Wedge rolled out of bed, padded over to the door and punched the unlock sequence into the panel. The door slid open and he squinted at the sudden brightness. He looked out through slitted eyes into the corridor.

There was no one there.

Before he could look further out into the hall, a body came flying around the corner and tackled him at the waist. He fell back, twisting so that he wouldn't be crushed under the weight of the assailant. He actually managed to twist further than he thought he could and landed square on the man in the orange flightsuit, straddling his stomach.

There was a _whoof_ as air escaped from his attacker when he was sandwiched between Wedge and the floor. Wedge drew his right arm back to strike out at the man, but it was held in midair in a strong grip. He turned and looked into the downcast face of Hobbie Klivian.

Hobbie was shaking his head. "Wes, I told you this was a bad idea. But when did you ever listen to me?"

Wes Janson coughed, trying to catch his breath. With little success as Wedge was still sitting on his stomach. "Yeah, but you...should have seen...the look...on his face. It was worth it." He tried to laugh but it came out a half cough, half wheeze.

Wedge rolled off Wes's stomach and lay on his back on the floor, his legs bent at the knees. He took a couple of deep breaths, letting the adrenaline fade from his system. As Hobbie entered the room fully, the door slid shut behind him, leaving the three pilots in shadows.

"Now I remember why leaving Rogue Squadron seemed like such a good idea. To get away from you two lunatics."

Wes sat up, rubbing at his belly with his left hand and straightening the front of his flightsuit with his right. "Ah, but we're no longer with Rogue Squadron, boss, so now you'll have no idea what direction I'll come at you from."

Wedge groaned and rolled his eyes. "Hobbie, give me one reason not to kill him right here."

"I can't think of one off the top of my head. By the way, why are you in your shorts?"

Wedge sat up and gave Wes a rather sharp jab to the stomach. He yowled before doubling over. "Because, until this nerf for brains attacked me, I was sleeping. Unless things have changed since I left the squad, sleeping is still permitted off duty."

Wes clambered to his feet and stood, _almost_ straight, while keeping a safe distance from his former commander. Hobbie leaned over and offered Wedge a hand to his feet. "Well, we actually came by to visit you on friendly terms, despite this child's actions. We wanted to know if you and Tycho could come to dinner with us tonight. We are only on Coruscant for three days and--"

"Wes wanted to annoy me for as long as possible?"

Wes gave Wedge a look of mock surprise. "What, me? Why, you have insulted my honor, sir. I _insist_ on a dual. Blaster pistols at dawn!"

Wedge sighed. He kept a look of frustration on his face, a look that he had perfected while serving with Wes on and off for over a decade. But deep down he smiled to himself. He had to admit that he had missed these two.

Wes and Hobbie left the Rogues not long after Wedge to accept assignments as instructors, training their own squadrons. They had done this kind of work before and hadn't really liked it. Wedge often wondered if they would have accepted their new teaching positions if he had remained with the squadron.

He reached into his closet for his robe. "Not tonight, Hobbie. I'm not good company, and I ship out to Thyferra early tomorrow morning. But maybe I can catch up with you guys some other time?"

"The Council parading you around again, boss?" Wes asked, a huge grin spreading over his boyish face. "What a tough life you lead. Dinner parties, beautiful ladies, parades in your honor. You know, they should really give that kind of duty to a more handsome, heroic pilot."

"They would have Wes, but Tycho said no."

Wes clutched at his chest as if he had just been shot with a blaster. "Oh, I sure have missed you, Wedge. No one can vape my ego like you can."

Wedge sighed again. "Actually, I don't know if you will be able to grasp this concept Wes, but I'm going to Thyferra to _work_."

The Major tapped two fingers against his chin and looked deep in thought. "I seem to recall hearing that word before, but I can't remember what it means." Hobbie cuffed him over the back of the head. "Ow! Why does everyone keep hitting me?"

"Because you deserve it," Hobbie replied, then returned his attention to Wedge. "Come on, come to dinner with us, even if it's just to keep me from killing this ingrate."

"No, I just want to have some peace and quiet today. Trust me, you don't want to be around me at the moment. You can ask Tycho, though. I'm sure he'll go."

Wes and Hobbie exchanged glances and Wedge knew instantly that they were up to something. Wes looked more than a little disappointed. _Looks like I just spoiled their fun._

Hobbie was the first to break the silence. "Is everything all right, Wedge? I thought you would be happy as an intino on a bantha being back with the squadron."

"I am. I really am happy to be back. I just need some sleep." As if to emphasize the point, he stretched and yawned. "I would thank you guys for coming by, but I'm afraid Wes would think he was welcome."

"Ouch. I can take a hint. We're going." Wes moved towards the door, then turned to Wedge again. "But the four of us will get together soon, okay?"

"Yeah," Wedge said with a nod.

"All right, then. See ya, boss."

Wedge reached out and stopped Wes before he could leave. "You are in command of your own training squadron and thirty assorted pilots. Why do you insist on still calling me _boss_?"

He seemed to give that some thought before answering, and Wedge thought for minute that he might be serious. "Well, to be perfectly honest, I can never remember your name."

Wedge took another swipe at him and missed. Wes tapped a button on the console and, with a grin as wide as an X-wing, was out the door.

Hobbie clapped Wedge on the back, and gave him a half smile. "I have to live with this, you know." He turned and was gone as well.

When the door closed behind them, Wedge was again alone in the dark. He removed his robe, walked over to the foot of his bunk and crawled up it. The sheets were cold again, but he didn't care. He got comfy and relaxed, even though he could still feel a slight ache in his left hip where Wes had tackled him.

Despite himself, he smiled. The smile faded as he drifted off to sleep.

* * * * * * *

Wes and Hobbie walked away from Wedge's quarters in silence, Wes still rubbing his belly. They reached a large plaza a couple of levels down and one building over. Hobbie led Wes to a free bench next to a potted plant about the size of a speeder.

"Well, that plan just went nova in our faces," Wes said, running a hand through his disheveled brown hair.

Hobbie sighed, something he did often when Wes was around. "Well, what did you expect? Wes, you _tackled_ him to the ground! You're lucky that he was sleeping. If he had been in uniform he could have pulled his blaster before I ever would have had the chance to stop him. And then what kind of birthday would he have? He would have spent the rest of the day filling out reports on why he killed a junior officer in his own quarters. Although the words _justifiable homicide_ do come to mind."

Wes frowned, but it did nothing to age his features. He leaned his elbows on his knees and cupped his face in his hands. "So what are we going to do now? We have a surprise party all set and no Birthday General."

"It's time we moved to stronger tactics and rolled out the heavy turbolasers," Hobbie replied.

Wes's head came up. "What, you want Corran to go in with his lightsaber burning and threaten Wedge into coming to dinner?"

Hobbie rolled his light blue eyes. "A little obvious. I was thinking of something a bit more subtle. Something that even Wedge can't resist."

"Money?"

"Wes, you are a juvenile delinquent. How did you ever make it to Major?"

"My charm and good looks, of course. How did you do it?" He smiled and Hobbie, not for the first time, came close to killing him.

Hobbie spoke very slowly, trying to clue Wes in to his plan. "I was thinking of employing someone from Special Forces to talk him into it."

"I don't think Wedge would appreciate it if we sent someone in to torture him so he would come to his own..." His voice trailed off as he finally realized what Hobbie was getting at. "Oh. _Oh!_ Now I get it."

"Let's go make a call," Hobbie said.

* * * * * * *

Wedge could have sworn that he heard someone knocking at his door again. He dismissed it as his imagination and tried to go back to sleep.

They knocked again.

"I don't believe this!" He glanced at his chrono and noted that it had been only about forty minutes since Hobbie and Wes had left.

There was another knock.

He stood up, his dark mood getting blacker by the millisecond. He stepped over to his dresser and unholstered his service blaster before heading to the door. He punched in the security code with his right hand and as the door slid open stuck his blaster through the gap with his left.

Right into the face of Major Ajene Tuvora. To her credit, she didn't flinch.

"Am I disturbing you, General?"

When he thought about it afterwards, he imagined he must have been quite the sight, standing in his doorway in nothing but his shorts, his hair all over the place and a blaster aimed at her head.

It took him a moment to realize that he was just staring at her. It took another moment for him to recognize that his blaster was still pointed at her face. He lowered it immediately and would have holstered it had he been wearing clothes. "Major. I'm sorry. I thought you were Wes. Of course you're not disturbing me. I...Uh...I'll be back in one minute. Don't...uh...don't go anywhere."

She smiled at him and stepped back into the hallway as the door closed.

_Antilles, you are an idiot! _He ripped open his closet and grabbed the first article of clothing that came to hand. He quickly jumped into the dark gray flightsuit and his right foot caught in the right sleeve, threatening to send him to the floor. He untangled himself and pulled the rest of it on. Socks were next and then his boots. On his way back to the door he ran a hand through his hair and nearly got it stuck in the tangled mess.

At the sound of the door, the Major turned to face him, and he felt some of his black mood drain away. Ajene was about the same height as he was. Even under her New Republic Special Forces uniform, it was obvious that she had an athletic build, and her figure did extremely nice things to the drab green outfit. Her coppery blond hair was worn short, falling to the nape of her neck in a soft tumble of curls. She had wide, stunning green eyes that sparkled under thick lashes.

She smiled at him and he flashed back to the first time he had seen Ajene. It had been a year earlier on the planet Ddrekak. She had been in charge of an insertion team that had been sent in to obtain and communicate advance knowledge of the planet before the fleet came in to attack the Imperial forces there. Rogue Squadron had been assigned the duty of retrieving the team and escorting them off the planet just after the attack had begun.

He remembered landing in the middle of a road just outside the city, waiting for them to rendezvous with him. He had been flying the squadron's Lambda class shuttle and the rest of the squadron was roaring overhead in their X-wings.

The insertion team's speeder raced towards him, Imperial speeder bikes hot on their tail. Ajene had been last out of their vehicle, covering the backs of the rest of her team as they made their way to the shuttle. They then covered for her as she made a run for it. She had come up the boarding ramp under heavy fire, a blaster in her hand, the perfect image of a heroine from a holodrama.

They had gotten off the planet as fast as he could fly and made it back safely to the fleet. En route back to Coruscant, they had met again quite by accident in the officer's mess on board ship. She had invited him to eat with her and he had accepted. In their long conversation, they had discovered many things in common, the least of which was a love of architecture. The two of them had been friends ever since, meeting whenever their schedules would allow. But he was surprised to see her now, especially at the door to his quarters. Most people didn't even know yet that the squadron had returned to the base.

"Please come in, Major." He managed to keep his voice formal and military. As she passed by him, he glanced down either side of the corridor to make sure that no one saw her enter a superior officer's quarters.

"I didn't realize that you may be sleeping at this time of the day. I can come back later if you want." She offered him a cheerful smile and he suddenly didn't want her to leave.

"Trust me, after the visit I just had from Wes, I would much rather have you here."

"From the experiences I've had with Wes, I can understand that." She moved further into his quarters as the door swooshed closed.

Wedge raised the level of illumination in the room a bit, but still kept it low. He cleared some datacards off a chair in the corner and quickly tossed his orange flightsuit into his closet. "Please, have a seat. It's been weeks since I've seen you. How've you been?"

She settled back into the chair and glanced around the room. "Okay. It's pretty slow in Special Forces at the moment. Not that that is a bad thing, I guess. But you know how it is. Moving around as we do, you don't make many friends outside of the Armed Forces. So when I found out you would be returning to Coruscant today, I hoped that maybe we could go out and get something to eat. Catch up on each other, if you know what I mean. Unless you would rather sleep, that is."

He smiled and sat in the chair opposite her. "I would like nothing more than to go out for dinner with you, but I'm not sure if you want me there. My mood is thicker than nerf meat today and Wes's visit, or should I say ambush, didn't help it any." He sighed and used his thumb and forefinger to rub his eyes.

She leaned forward a bit, looking at him intently. "Wedge, I don't claim to know you as well as some of your squad mates, but if you ever want to talk, you know that I'm here for you. You don't have to do the _General stands stoically alone _act for me." She leaned her elbows on her knees to be a little closer to him. "Come on, what's the matter?"

He looked into her green eyes and would really liked to have told her what was wrong. But he couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was that had him down and certainly didn't know how to express it. "It's nothing, really. Thanks for offering, though." He let out an exasperated sigh. "You know, this is silly. Here I am looking forward to sitting in the dark and feeling depressed when I could be out with a friend. Ajene, I'd love to have dinner with you."

"Good, because I wasn't taking no for an answer. You know, I've really missed you Wedge." She smiled again and he found it infectious. "I have an idea. You get yourself rested, washed up, and dressed and I'll be back to collect you in an hour. Remember, casual is the order of the day. No uniforms. We'll take a long walk to the restaurant I have in mind. We'll see if we can't pep you up a bit."

She stood and stepped over to his door. He met her there and leaned across in front of her to punch in the code. The door opened and light flooded in from the brightly lit corridor. When Wedge straightened again, he found himself nose-to-nose with Ajene. They stared into one another's eyes and suddenly his pulse began to quicken. She leaned closer to him and kissed him on the mouth.

Her lips were soft and sweet, and the kiss was everything he expected it to be and more. It was gentle, experimental, and he could smell a slight scent of perfume from her. _Orchids,_ he thought mindlessly. She threaded her arms around his neck and his hands found her waist, sliding around to the small of her back. He gently pulled her closer, pressing their bodies together.

After several minutes, she broke the kiss, more from a lack of oxygen than anything else, and started to pull away. But he pulled her to him firmly and returned her kiss with more passion. All of the fatigue he had felt earlier disappeared. He moved them away from the door and it closed again.

Their lips parted, and she pulled away from him again. This time, he reluctantly let her go.

"Well...now I know that flying is only _one_ of the things you do exceptionally well." She sat down heavily in the chair that she had only just vacated.

Wedge still stood near the door, trying in vain to put his thoughts back in order and quiet the desire that had quickly begun to burn deep within him. "Uh, not to sound stupid or to ruin the moment, but what just happened?" He moved over to and sat down on the corner of his bunk, a couple of meters from where she sat.

She smiled sweetly at him. "I am certainly no expert, but I think it was a kiss. And I think we did it pretty well."

"Yes, but I...we...oh, never mind." He ran his hands over his face, feeling tired all over again.

"Wedge, why do you have to have an explanation for everything? Have you ever just let go and enjoyed anything in your entire life?"

He glanced at the floor, then back up at her. "Everything I enjoy usually ends up being taken away from me. My home, my parents, my friends. I've learned not to get too close to people today because they or I may not be here tomorrow."

She got up and walked over to him, kneeling down in front of him. She placed a hand on each of his knees, her face taking on a more serious expression. "Wedge, I know you've lost a lot in your life and I am sorry for that. But there comes a time when you can't worry about it anymore. If you keep on putting up walls between yourself and everyone around you, you end up being very alone. And by the time you figure that out, it's too late. I'm sure you know that as I well as I do."

Her words hit him like a missile, jolting the truth free from the back of his mind. She was right. He had made friends with the people in his squadron and those connected with it, but he tried to keep his distance and had no one to share his life with. Living on the base while most of the rest of his squadron had _homes_ was proof enough. He was _alone._

Wedge recognized the word that had echoed through his thoughts earlier. He looked down at Ajene and read the same loneliness in her eyes. He reached out with his left hand and caressed her cheek with his thumb.

She ran her hands up his legs and leaned her fists on the bunk on either side of his hips. She raised her face up towards his and kissed him again. There was force to the kiss, re-igniting the passion within him, as she shoved him back onto the bed. He surrendered himself to her, feeling a warmth in her embrace that he just now realized had been missing from his life.

Wedge kissed her in return as she unfastened his flightsuit, running her hands across his bare chest, and he started on the buttons of her green uniform jacket. His hands ran up and down her back, through her hair and then down across her now bare shoulders. He ran his lips down to her neck, brushing his tongue gently along her throat. She moaned a little and he continued to caress her.

Moving back up to her face, he kissed her again, and he knew he was not going to get the sleep that earlier, for some reason, had seemed so essential to him.

But he didn't mind.

* * * * * * *

When he awoke, Wedge was a little surprised to feel someone in his bed with him. Then it all flooded back to him and he couldn't help but smile.

He glanced at the chrono and found that he had slept for the best part of an hour. Ajene still slept soundly in his arms, her breath gently brushing against his neck. Stray locks of hair had fallen over her face and he gently tucked them behind her ear.

He separated himself from her and got out of bed, trying hard not to wake her. In the shadows of his quarters he searched the floor for his dark flightsuit or robe. He couldn't find either, gave up, and headed for the refresher to take the shower that he should have taken earlier.

Wedge relished the feel of the hot water on his skin and just stood there as it flowed over him. But he eventually dragged himself out and dried himself off, wrapping a towel around his waist.

Returning to his room, he stopped and looked around in the dimness of early evening, hand drying his hair with another towel. The quarters that he had been assigned were small by most standards, but he had thought they suited him. Now he realized that living on his own in a one-room apartment on a military base should have been his first clue that something was missing in his life.

As a General, he had of course been offered much more spacious quarters, with more than one room for instance. But he had refused them, opting for something smaller and more...

His thoughts ground to a halt at the word. _Intimate._ His gaze returned to the woman in his bunk. He _had_ known for some time that he was alone, and that it was his own fault. Since his parents had been killed, he had made sure not to get too close to anyone for fear of losing them. And once he had been given command of Rogue Squadron, he had cut himself off even further. He had built a wall around himself, brick by brick, letting only a handful of people past it. But even those people were kept at arm's length. In order to keep loss, guilt, sadness out of his life, he had blocked out all emotions. He had just pushed everything and everyone aside, substituting loneliness with duty as responsibility after responsibility arose. All he had was his career, and he had effectively made that his life.

But he had blinded himself to that until Ajene pointed it out to him. Now when he looked at her, his life, if he could really call it that, was reflected back at him. He could clearly see the years that he had denied his own feelings for the people around him, constantly withdrawing within himself for protection.

He thought about Iella Wessiri, Corran Horn's former partner from his CorSec days. Wedge had been attracted to her from the moment they had met over three years before. When he had finally gotten up the courage to pursue her, Diric, her missing husband, reappeared. It was discovered that Diric had been a victim of Ysanne Isard's brainwashing. When he attempted to assassinate a prisoner under her guard, Iella had been forced to kill him. She had been a bit of an emotional wreck after that, but Wedge and Corran had been there to support her through the hard times.

During that period, Wedge and Iella had grown close, but he felt it decidedly inappropriate to act on his attraction and they had eventually become more friends than anything else. He had felt it his duty to keep his distance, but was relieved in a way because he was saving himself from the possibility of heartbreak. Inevitably, both their careers took them in different directions, and he hardly ever saw her anymore.

Another opportunity at happiness had passed him by because of his procrastination and reluctance to open himself up to another person.

And here was Ajene. His attraction to her had not been as instantaneous as it had been with Iella. In hindsight, he should have seen what was happening between them. They were two lonely people, desperate to find someone to care for. And they just happened to find one another.

He wasn't sure he was in love with her, and didn't know if it would ever evolve that far. But he did care for her a great deal. However, once again _he_ had not acted on his feelings. It had been Ajene that had initiated their friendship, and now they had become romantically involved, all because of her. She had awoken him to the fact that he needed someone in his life, that something...extraordinary was missing. She had brought _life_ back into what had merely been an existence.

He crept over to the bunk and kissed her gently on the forehead. "Thank you," he whispered.

Hanging his towel around his neck, he walked over to his one window and gazed out onto the great cityscape of Coruscant. Though his room was small, his view was spectacular. The entire world was one big city, with the exception of the mountains and polar caps. Before him stretched kilometer after kilometer of immense duracrete buildings, with the Imperial Palace visible in the distance. He watched as thousands of speeders and other assorted vehicles sped through the artificial canyons created by the tall buildings.

It was about dusk, and the lights of the city were beginning to twinkle. He knew that it was an awesome and breath-taking sight, but all he could do was shiver. He began to feel walled in again. When he looked into those ferrocrete canyons, he saw loneliness and solitude. He began to get depressed again.

"I was wondering where you had gone."

"I didn't go too far," he said as he turned and enfolded her in his arms. She melted to his body and his feeling of isolation dissolved. He looked down at her and he could see the city lights reflected in her emerald eyes. "Do you still want to go out for dinner or can we stay here?"

She smiled lazily, but then her eyes opened wide in alarm. "Dinner! I completely forgot."

He was surprised by the urgency in her voice. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just remembered that the restaurant that I wanted to take you to gets really busy about this time." She kissed him on the nose and shoved him towards his closet. "You have to get dressed. Oh, my, so do I!"

He guessed she had just remembered that she was only wearing a sheet from his bed. "Why do we have to go out at all? I think you did a pretty good job of lifting my spirits. We can have dinner here."

"Wedge, I really want to take you to this restaurant. You'll love it, I know you will. But if we don't go now, we won't get in."

She kissed him full on the mouth and for a moment he was sure they would never get out of his quarters. But she shoved him towards his closet again and started to gather up the various pieces of her uniform, throwing them on in record time. "I'll be back in twenty minutes to get you. Be ready." Then she was gone.

Wedge sat on his bed, one foot in a pair of black pants. He looked around the room and couldn't help but wonder if he had dreamt it all.

* * * * * * *

As soon as Ajene was out of earshot of Wedge's quarters, she pulled out her comlink and thumbed it on.

"Ajene to Hobbie."

Relief filled Hobbie's voice as it buzzed from the comlink. "I'm here, Ajene. I've been trying to get you for the last hour. Where have you been?"

She blushed fiercely before she could reply. "Let's just say that you have one tough General. He took a lot of convincing."

There was a perceptible pause and she hoped that she hadn't said too much. She wasn't sure if Wedge would want anyone to know what had happened between them just yet. Although there were no regulations against officers becoming romantically involved, there had been an unwritten rule against showing too much affection in public. But as the years went by and more and more of the Armed Forces began to settle down, the rule had been pushed into the background somewhat. Wedge had been a military man all of his life and she was unsure about his views on the subject.

"So he's going to be there?" Hobbie finally said.

"Yes, I'm picking him up in twenty minutes. ETA about forty-five."

"I copy. We'll be ready. Hobbie out."

She hoped that Wedge would enjoy the surprise party. _I just hope that he still talks to me after it._

She headed off at top speed to the turbolift that would carry her down to her own quarters fifteen levels below.

* * * * * * *

Ajene managed to get to her quarters, get ready, and return to Wedge in just under the twenty minutes she had given him.

She pulled at the green blouse she wore, straightening it over her shoulders. It was only when she reached Wedge's door that she realized that her blouse was fastened incorrectly. She had one button left over at the top. She sighed and knocked.

He opened the door almost immediately and when she saw him, she forgot about the button. She couldn't help but think that Wedge was even more handsome in civilian clothes and he looked more relaxed than she had ever seen him, maybe due to the lack of uniform and the goofy grin on his face. When she thought about it, she realized that this was the first time she had ever seen him out of uniform.

_Well, the second time, anyway._

He wore a pair of black pants tucked into high black boots. His shirt was a dark wine red and was covered by a brown nerf-hide suede flight jacket. His hair was combed but still slightly out of control. She decided she liked it that way.

His broad smile quickly faded and he made a stiff half bow at the waist. "Major, how nice to see you again."

She started at his official tone and change in manner. Then she saw the other officer coming down the hall. She gave Wedge a firm nod and played along. "Thank you, General. I am ready to escort you to your appointment."

The officer passed and continued down the hall without even a glance at the two of them. Wedge reached into the hall and pulled her into his room. The door closed behind her and he kissed her. "Sorry."

"That's okay. I was thinking on the way down to my place that you may have some problems letting other people see us together."

"How do you know me so well, Major?" He used her rank as a way to tease her this time. She knew it was going to be a while before he was comfortable with her and others at the same time.

_This is going to be an interesting evening._

He kissed her again, his hands running up her back. "Are you sure you want to go out for dinner? I could have something brought to us here," he said as he kissed his way down her neck.

"We are going and that is final," she said firmly, then kissed him one last time, not knowing if she would have the chance for the rest of the evening. "In fact, we had better be going right now."

"Ha! A Major giving a General orders." She gave him a playful punch in the stomach. After rubbing at his belly, he reached out and pointed at the button at the top of her blouse. "You missed one."

"I know," she said, and began to unbutton her shirt. As a smile blossomed on Wedge's face, she turned her back to him and continued to undo and then redo the fasteners. Giving the blouse one last check, she turned to face him again. "All right, General. Let's move out."

They worked their way down to the fiftieth level and crossed between buildings through the connecting tunnels and walkways, never actually stepping outdoors. It took a little longer to get to the restaurant than she had planned, but she was sure that Wes and Hobbie would appreciate the extra time to get everyone in place.

They made it to their destination and stepped into the foyer of the restaurant. After Ajene spoke to the 8MR Maitre D droid, they were led past the other diners to an L shaped room at the back, where she assumed everyone was waiting for them. With some maneuvering, Ajene was able to get Wedge to go in ahead of her.

When Wedge turned the corner, there was an ambush of twenty-five people waiting for him.

"_Surprise!_"

The yell was nearly overwhelming and Wedge looked stunned for a moment. Then an enormous grin spread across his face. He turned and looked at Ajene and she just shrugged her shoulders. "I thought I would invite some of your friends to join us. Happy Birthday." She tried an innocent smile, but didn't quite succeed. He smiled in return and winked at her.

All of his friends swarmed forward and soon she could no longer see Wedge at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

"Everyone, I would like to offer a toast, if I may." Wes stood at the opposite end of the table from his seat beside Wedge in order to be able to face the man he was toasting. He was no longer steady on his feet after a number of glasses of a blue liquid he called Laser Water, but that did not seem to deter him.

Wes was quite dashing in his outfit of navy pants and a shirt of deep sky blue. His sapphire eyes sparkled with mischief. His hair, as always, was a whirling brown mess. It looked like he had been standing on his head in a Tatooine dust storm.

He continued as he saw that he had the attention of at least some of the people sitting at the long table. "I would like to say that I have probably known the boss, ahem, excuse me, General Antilles, longer than most of you gathered here. I've seen him do some extraordinarily heroic things in that time, risking life and limb for the New Republic. I, and others, have also seen him do some incredibly stupid things as well, all of which I will now list."

He felt around in his pockets for something, presumably the list. There was a smattering of laughter throughout the group. Hobbie, from further down the table, threw a rolled up napkin at him. It passed just over Wes's left shoulder and landed on the floor behind him. He looked over at Hobbie, who made a face at him. "As usual, Hobbie couldn't hit the side of an Imperial Walker if he tried."

Hobbie crossed his arms over his chest and moped.

"Since I seem to have misplaced the list, I will have to go from memory." He cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together in the anticipation of embarrassing his friend. "Please rest assured that I have done extensive research to ensure the accuracy of these tales. First, and my personal favorite, is the famous line that he uttered at the Battle of Yavin on his approach to the first Death Star. Immortal words that should never, ever be forgotten and, I am sure, will be engraved on his tomb."

He cleared his throat again and continued in a higher pitched voice, at least an octave above Wedge's actual speaking voice. "Look at the size of that thing," he squeaked.

This time, the laughter was much more pronounced. This seemed to bolster Wes's confidence and he pressed on. "As much as I tried, the nickname of Wedge "Look at the size of that thing" Antilles never stuck. So I wanted to find a nickname that would befit him. Suitably heroic, of course. It was not until I was asking around for more embarrassing stories that I found that Wedge had had another nickname, from his childhood."

"Wes, please don't..." Wedge began to beg.

Wes held up a hand. "I'm sorry, General. I am compelled to reveal this information." He smiled wickedly. "Many of you may not know that as a child Wedge's parents called him, and please feel free to use this, _Veggies_."

Corran Horn nearly choked on his drink, coughing lightly then laughing. His wife, Mirax, was in hysterics on his right. On his left was Tycho Celchu, Rogue Squadron's second-in-command. He was laughing as well, although he made less of a show of it than Mirax did.

At the head of the table, on the other side of Tycho, Wedge hid behind his hands in dread of what Wes would say next. When he finally did look up from his hands, he gave a mock glare to Mirax, the only person who could have known his childhood nickname. She hid behind Corran and continued to laugh.

"In all the time that the General and I have served together, about ten standard years by my calculation, I have to admit that there are too many stories that I could tell about him to be able to list them _all_ here. But I will favor you with another of my favorites."

"Wes, can I have a hint so that I know whether or not to have Tycho shoot me?"

Wes smiled. "Yub, yub, General."

Wedge turned to Tycho. "Please, just kill me now," he pleaded.

"I couldn't do that. I'd miss the story," the blue eyed Alderaanian replied.

"Traitor!" He snarled at Tycho, then just hung his head as Wes recounted the story of Lieutenant Kettch, the Ewok that Wedge had impersonated during some of his time commanding Wraith Squadron.

Corran had heard this story before from some of the members of the Wraiths themselves, when the two squadrons had served together on _Mon Remonda _during the search for Warlord Zsinj. He had even seen Wedge once with the Ewok stuffed animal strapped to him before climbing into a TIE fighter and heading out on a mission. So he glanced around the table to watch the reaction of the others present. He could see that the rest of the Rogues, especially some of the veteran pilots, were enjoying the stories tremendously. They would surely use them to tease "Veggies" at a later date.

Some of Wraith Group was also present. They were no longer a squadron since they had been transferred from Starfighter Command to Intelligence, but most of them had managed to stay in contact with Wedge in one way or another, showing tremendous loyalty to the group's founder.

Four of them sat together at the far end of the table, just to the right of where Wes was standing. Captain Garik "Face" Loran was sitting with his wife, Lieutenant Dia Passik. Next to them sat Lieutenants Tyria Sarkin and Kell Tainer. Kell was one of the tallest pilots Corran had ever met, and apparently one of the better looking ones, according to Inyri Forge. Corran's squad mate had had a thing for him since they had met on _Mon Remonda_. But Kell and Tyria had been an item for a couple of years now.

All four of the Wraiths were laughing at the memory of Wedge in that silly Ewok suit.

Across and a couple of seats further down the other side of the table was Major Ajene Tuvora. She looked like she was listening to Wes, but Corran could tell her attention was divided. Every now and then, when she thought no one was looking, she smiled at Wedge.

Corran raised an eyebrow. _Interesting._

He returned his focus to Wes just in time for the toast. Wes had come to the conclusion of his speech after dragging up every embarrassing anecdote he could remember and no doubt making up the rest. Wedge brought his hands up in surrender, then formed a blaster with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand and "shot" at Wes to try and shut him up.

"So in conclusion, I would like to offer up a glass to the General. The man who led us all here, and will most likely have me on kitchen duty for the rest of the week." Everyone raised their glass to Wedge, who looked more than a little embarrassed at the attention. "To General Veggies 'Look at the size of that thing' Antilles. Happy Birthday." Wes raised his glass in the air and saluted Wedge with it. Everyone drank from their glasses, then applause broke out along both sides of the table.

Corran applauded as well, but his attention was on Ajene Tuvora. He watched her with fascination. Her eyes glanced around the table, then stopped on Wedge. She caught his eye and smiled at him. Wedge winked at her in return, then tore his gaze off her as Wes resumed his seat to his right.

Corran raised both eyebrows this time. _Very interesting._

Although Corran had no formal training as a Jedi, he had found that his understanding and sensitivity to the Force was increasing with time. He also had an extremely accurate gut instinct that had served him well as a member of the Corellian Security Force, and even more so as a pilot. He was also entirely too curious by nature. He closed his eyes and thought about Ajene and Wedge.

He started as Mirax nudged his arm. "Corran, are you all right?"

He opened his eyes and looked at her. "Yeah, fine. Why?"

"Because you've been sitting with your eyes shut for the last minute. I would have thought you had fallen asleep, but you weren't snoring."

"I only closed my eyes for a few seconds to concentrate."

"Well, it was far longer than that." She laughed lightly. "I thought you were in some Jedi trance or something."

He lowered his voice so no one else could hear him at the loud table. "While Wes was talking, I thought I noticed something about Ajene, so I decided to concentrate on her to see if there was something there. But I didn't mean to space out on you. Sorry."

"Did you sense anything, or did you actually just nod off?"

Mirax gave him a look that suggested she wasn't really taking him seriously, but Corran pushed on anyway. "I think they've gotten together."

"Wes and Ajene? I find that hard to believe."

"No, not Wes! _Wedge_ and Ajene."

Tycho leaned over to join in the conversation and his eyes lit up at the possibility of being in on some gossip. "What about Wedge and Ajene?"

"Tycho, you have some set of ears on you." Corran was sure that no one would be able to hear him.

"It comes from my paranoia that everyone is talking about me behind my back." Tycho smiled willingly, easing some of the lines around his eyes. Although less than a year older than Wedge, Tycho had years on his face that Wedge did not, possibly because of the tribulations life had thrown him over the last several years. Not only had his home planet of Alderaan been destroyed by the Empire, but after volunteering for a secret mission to the then Imperial Center, he had been captured and tortured by Ysanne Isard at her _Lusankya_ facility.

The former head of Imperial Intelligence had tried to turn Tycho, as she had with Corran himself not too long after, into one of her spies. She had not succeeded, but the suspicion that Tycho had been under upon his return had nearly ruined his career. The New Republic had even put him on trial for Corran's murder. Only his own return from _Lusankya_ had been able to prove Tycho innocent. All through his trial, Wedge had stood by him, solidifying their already strong friendship.

Mirax leaned across Corran, jerking a thumb at her husband. "He thinks that Ajene and Wedge have gotten together. I think this Jedi thing has finally gone to his head."

Tycho laughed quietly, his shoulders trembling as he did. Corran wasn't sure if he was laughing at him or the thought that Wedge might actually have a girlfriend.

"You can't tell me that Wedge had the guts to go after her." Tycho said. "I mean, look at her. Have you ever seen anyone as imposing and intimidating as that woman?"

"You wanna make a bet?" Corran replied.

"You're on. How does fifty credits sound?"

"Done. But you're going to lose." Corran shook his head. "I can't believe neither of you can see it. The way she glances at him when she thinks that no one is looking, the way that he smiles back at her. Either they are not very good at hiding it or they have gotten together recently and _can't_ hide it. And since we only returned this morning, it would have to have been this afternoon when she was supposedly trying to talk him into coming here."

Tycho gave him a sly smile. "Well, all I can say is that if they are together, then the best of luck to them."

"I agree." Mirax added. "I've known Wedge for most of my life and it is about time he had someone to take care of him besides me and the children of Rogue Squadron."

"Children?" Both Tycho and Corran responded simultaneously. Most of the people at their end of the table turned and looked at them. Corran's face reddened perceptively and Tycho coughed into his hand.

"I think I need another drink," Corran said as he reached for the pitcher of Lomin Ale on the table. Tycho held out his glass for him to refill as well.

Mirax laughed at both of them.

* * * * * * *

It was in the very early hours of the morning when the party finally broke up. Wedge watched as most of his friends split into groups and headed off to their respective homes. Ajene had left a few minutes before, but not before giving him a look that suggested she would be waiting for him. In the end only Wedge, Hobbie, Wes, Tycho, Corran, and Mirax were left.

Wedge stretched his arms out above his head then stood, pulling his jacket from the back of his chair. "Well, I had better be going. I have to fly out to Thyferra later this morning." He covered a yawn with his left hand and moved in the direction of the door. He staggered a little and came sluggishly to the conclusion that maybe he had had just a little too much of Wes's Laser Water.

Still, he felt good. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this relaxed and content. Then he remembered his activities of the afternoon and had to try hard to hide a smile.

Wes staggered over to him. He leaned up against Wedge and they both swayed. "So, were ya surprised? Huh, were ya?"

"Oh yes, today has been a day full of surprises." Wedge said, shaking his head.

"I bet it has. Surprises like Ajene Tuvora." Wes giggled at his revelation and then slumped into a nearby chair. His head wobbled as if it was on a spring instead of his neck.

Corran's head came up at the mention of the Major. "Yeah, Wedge, what is it with you two? I thought you were just friends?" He smiled at the reaction he got with his question. It all but confirmed his earlier theory.

Wedge blushed.

Wes continued to chuckle to himself. "You see, Hobbie, I told you. The boss _has_ got himself a girl. Didn't I tell you?"

"Wes, I told _you_!" Hobbie replied. He tried to keep a straight face with little success as he too slouched in his chair, his face flushed and his eyes brighter than usual. Finally unable to contain his mirth, he began to laugh. "That's really great, Wedge," he managed to utter between snickers.

Tycho leaned over to Corran. "Yeah, just great. Now I owe you fifty credits."

Wedge turned and fixed Tycho with a stare. "You two were betting on Ajene and I? You should be ashamed of yourselves." Wedge dropped into the chair next to Wes. He leaned his elbows heavily on the table and placed his forehead on the palms of his hands.

Mirax leaned over and tousled his hair. "Are you all right, Veggies? I'll probably have to carry Corran home, but I'm sure I can handle both of you if you want to stay at our place." She smiled as Corran opened his mouth to deny his intoxication then quickly closed it again.

"Nah, s'okay. I'd better get going." He looked over at Wes and then at Hobbie. "I would appreciate it if you didn't spread this around too much."

"Yes, sir!" Hobbie gave a close approximation of a salute and then dissolved into fits of giggles. Wes just leaned his forehead on the table.

Wedge sighed and got to his feet. Everyone said their goodnights as they headed for the door, Mirax offering him one final Happy Birthday. As he made it outside onto the large walkway, Ajene was there waiting for him. She slipped her hand into his and they headed off together.

He could hear the comments from his friends behind him as they walked away, and what sounded like an attempted whistle from Wes.

Wedge didn't care anymore.

* * * * * * *

Wedge walked Ajene back to her quarters and she decided to not let him leave. She dragged him into her room, which was smaller than his, but had more personality. He guessed that was because she spent a little more time on base while he gallivanted all over the galaxy.

They made their way over to the bed where she lay down, pulling him down on top of her, already unbuttoning his shirt. She ran her hands across his shoulders, marveling at how his flightsuit managed to hide how broad they actually were.

"You tricked me tonight, into going to that dinner. Is that something you plan to do a lot of in the future?" he asked as he clumsily attacked the fasteners of her blouse.

"Of course not. But I have to admit that I did have the intention of tricking you when I arrived at your quarters. Hobbie and Wes called to ask me if I was willing to act as bait for their party since they hadn't been able to convince you. In the name of the New Republic, I sacrificed myself. But I never expected to be stuck with you!"

She gave him a playful shove and he rolled over to lie on his back beside her. She rested a hand on his stomach and twirled a lock of his hair with the fingers of her right hand.

"You mean you didn't come to my quarters to seduce me?"

She shook her head and continued to play with his hair.

"You sacrificed your body for the New Republic. Well, I am hurt." He looked over at her in the darkness and could see her smile. "But what a body!"

He tickled her and she laughed and squirmed under the assault. "You will pay dearly for your treachery."

"Oh, I hope so," she sighed. He seized her in a rough embrace and she cried for help in a whispered voice, then kissed him.

* * * * * * *

This time when Wedge awoke, he was comforted by Ajene's presence, despite a touch of a hangover. Then he realized what time it was.

"Sithspawn!"

Wedge jumped out of bed and she sat up, startled. "What is it?"

"I'm late! I'm supposed to be flying out to Thyferra within the hour." He ran around her room picking up articles of clothing. "I have to go."

He swept over to the bed, his shirt halfway up his right arm. He leaned over and kissed her. "We'll get together for dinner tomorrow evening when I get back. Okay?"

She nodded and ran her fingers along his arm, not yet willing to let him leave. "I wish you didn't have to go. I feel like we just found each other and now we have to lose one another again."

He sighed and reached his hand up to take hers. "I know. I don't want to go any more than you want me to. But it's part of my job." She glanced down at their intermingled hands and he realized that he was being insensitive to her feelings by withdrawing from her. _Or just protecting my own?_ "I _am_ going to miss you. And I'll be back before you know it. I'll be arriving at Thyferra this afternoon, giving the lecture and heading back first thing tomorrow. I'll pick you up here for dinner tomorrow night around 1800."

He pulled her into a hug that couldn't last the years that he wanted it to. They separated, and he then headed off for his quarters to pick up his flightsuit and pack his bag.

Arriving at his room, he punched in his code and the door slid open. He grabbed his bag from the bottom of his closet and set it on his bunk. While he packed, there was a knock at his door. He opened it to find Ajene standing in the corridor.

"I want to go with you to the hanger," she said without explanation.

He chuckled. "Okay."

She frowned at him. "Aren't you worried that some of the crew will see us together?"

"Actually, I'm more afraid of leaving you here and having to go alone."

He took her right hand and kissed it. She caressed his face with it. "I don't believe you've ever been afraid of anything."

He hastily finished his packing, then they left together and took a turbolift down to the hanger level. They exited the lift and crossed the large corridor to the huge set of doors that led to the bay. As soon as the doors opened, the sounds and smells of the hanger assaulted Wedge. Everything that had been so comforting just the day before now felt alien to him.

He navigated his way through the maze of crafts and mechanics to his ship, his arm around Ajene's shoulders, hers around his waist. He could feel the occasional stare and hear some whispered comments behind him, but he tried to ignore them.

As he walked up to his ship, Shi'dora approached, holding his helmet and gloves. When she saw Ajene, she held back several meters.

"Well, I guess I gotta go." He didn't really want to, but knew that he had to. Thankfully she said nothing, just standing there looking at him, following his lead. He approached her and hugged her tightly, then turned without making eye contact, and headed towards the ladder of his waiting fighter.

"Don't be late for dinner," she said as he left her.

He turned as he stood on the first wrung of the ladder and smiled at her. "I won't."

Ajene moved a few meters away as Shi'dora came up and handed Wedge his helmet. The Twi'lek gave him a smile and he returned it, managing to blush only slightly. He turned and climbed up the rest of the ladder of his ship, hopped over the side, then dropped into his pilot's couch. Shi'dora climbed up after him and handed him his gloves. "You have a fine lady, General. It looks like all those self-diagnostics actually did you some good."

He gave her a lopsided grin as he pulled on his gloves. She gave him a thumbs up and started down the ladder.

As his canopy began to lower, Wedge began his preflight checklist and hit some switches on the console. There was a low hum as the engines began their warm up sequence and he glanced back at where Ajene was standing. She was still close enough for him to read the abandoned expression on her face, and it tore at his heart. He realized that here, exposed in the very public hanger, he had withdrawn again, leaving her standing there alone without so much as a kiss goodbye.

"Gate, put her in standby mode. I'll be right back."

As the hum of the engines died, he hit the release switch and the canopy began to rise. He pulled off his helmet and vaulted out of his couch and over the side of the fighter so fast that the techs didn't have a chance to replace the ladder. He landed in a crouch, already pulling at his gloves.

Ajene rushed to his side. "What's wrong? Did you forget something?" she asked as Gate gave an annoyed trill from his slot high up on the X-wing.

"I couldn't leave without this." Wedge pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close, returning his kiss with a passion that surprised both of them.

They separated and he kissed her hand. He held it for just a moment longer, looking at her earnestly. "I am so sorry for what I did before."

"Honestly, Wedge, I know how all this makes you feel." She opened her arms wide, taking in the entire hanger. "And although it does hurt when you push me away, I'm making it my mission to make you more at ease with not only me, but yourself as well."

As he looked into her understanding green eyes, he wanted to say it, to say _I love you_, but he couldn't. Although he cared deeply for Ajene, he hadn't reached that point...yet. So he remained silent, kissing her lightly on the lips.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said, and pushed him towards his ship. "And the sooner you get moving, the sooner you'll come back to me."

He smiled and waved goodbye, still keeping silent, not trusting himself to speak for fear of what he might say. Picking up his discarded gloves as he passed them, he headed up the ladder and into the X-wing that had carried him through battle after battle.

As his canopy began to lower for the second time, he spared one more glance at where Ajene had been standing. She had backed away another couple of meters to be clear of the repulsorlift backwash and she discreetly blew him a kiss. He gave her an abbreviated salute that he hoped she could see. She smiled, and waved goodbye.

"Okay, Gate, start her up and let's get some atmosphere beneath us."

His droid tootled and a translation scrolled across the screen. Wedge didn't catch all of it, but thought it said _It is about time._ The hum of the engines returned. He got all the way through his checklist this time, then brought the engines and repulsorlifts online and hovered out of the hanger.

As his fighter moved out into the cityscape of Coruscant, Wedge kicked in his ship's four Incom 4L4 fusial thrust engines. He soared towards the atmosphere on the pre-cleared flight plan that Coruscant Traffic Control had given him. As the huge metropolis disappeared beneath him, Gate beeped a question at him. He looked at the translation as it scrolled across the secondary screen.

He smiled at what he read. "Yes, she is very beautiful. Thanks for reminding me. And I am not sure how it is any of _your _business who I date."

Gate made a trilling noise that sounded suspiciously like a raspberry. _Sounds like Whistler has been teaching you some bad habits._

As he cleared the atmosphere and made his run up to lightspeed, Wedge looked back at Coruscant and wished for one of the first times that he didn't have to leave.


	4. Chapter 4

**4**

On the bridge of the Star Destroyer _Querulous, _Admiral Osiel Turpa stared out into the vastness of space. The silhouette of an Interdictor Cruiser, the _Arachna,_ hovered in the distance, the only other manmade object in his field of view. Its four huge antigrav generators were already powered up, waiting for their prey to enter the web that they had worked so hard to spin.

Behind and below him he could make out the sounds of the bridge crew going through their last minute checks of all systems. If the information from Thyferra was correct, Antilles had left there three hours before. His ship had been tracked as it entered hyperspace on the course they had predicted.

A claxon began to sound and Turpa returned to the center of the bridge, walking briskly along the command walkway. "Commander Cright, report."

The tall, dark haired Commander stood in the crew pit next to the sensor officer. "There is a ship coming out of hyperspace directly between _Querulous_ and the _Arachna, _sir."

"Identify it for me, please."

Commander Cright bent over the sensor technician's screen. "Sensors make it out to be a T-65B X-wing, Admiral. We are receiving a signal from the homing beacon." There was a pause as he double-checked the sensor board. "Confirmed. It's Antilles, sir."

"Commence communications jamming on all frequencies. I don't want any messages getting out of this system. Launch our fighters."

"Yes, sir," Cright answered, turning towards the technician manning the communications console.

As his crew scurried about, putting their plan into motion, Turpa remained at the viewport, his hands clasped tightly at the small of his back. They would have to be very careful how they captured Antilles. No clue could be left for anyone to find. He would have to disappear without a trace in order for Moff Tchlinda to be able to get away with her scheme. If the New Republic found out who had captured him, they would send their forces in to rescue him and all would be lost.

A flash of light caught his attention. He looked out into the vastness of space and saw a distant shape that had to be Antilles' ship. A quartet of TIE fighters were closing on him, green laser fire lancing out into the blackness of space.

He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. _Soon we will have him. Wedge Antilles, your luck is about to run out._

* * * * * * *

Wedge was trying to catch up on some sleep during his nine hour trip back to Coruscant when a warning alarm sounded, signaling an unexpected reversion to real space. Wedge was awake immediately, looking for whatever trouble he was undoubtedly in.

It didn't take him long to find it. The bulky arrow shape of a Victory Class Star Destroyer hung directly in front of his X-wing. His Identity Friend/Foe transponder tentatively identified her as the _Querulous_. In the distance he could see the distinctive outline of the Interdictor Cruiser that had yanked him from hyperspace. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, boiling out of the Star Destroyers main hanger deck came a full squadron of TIE fighters.

"Sithspawn!" He reached over his shoulder and hit the switch to split his S-foils into attack configuration, the last remains of sleep quickly vanishing from his system. He yanked the X-wing's stick hard to starboard, throwing the fighter into a roll, and headed away from the Destroyer. Four of the TIEs broke off from the main group in pursuit while the rest hung back as cover.

Wedge quickly thought over his options as he dove out of the range of the approaching fighters. "Well...I can't make a jump out of here because of that Interdictor. But there _are_ only twelve of them." He chuckled lightly as Gate let out a trill of notes indicating what he thought of that comment. Wedge didn't need to look at the translation to know the droid didn't like the odds any better than he did.

"Gate, I want you to send a priority high-speed message off to Coruscant. Route it through wherever you need to get it there. Tell them what we're up against and where we are." He felt pressure in his chest as he thought of Ajene. "And add to it a message for Major Tuvora. Tell her I might not make it for dinner."

Gate beeped a subdued affirmative and got to work on the message without further comment. But a moment later, a red light appeared on his comm unit and Gate let out a low moan.

_Just great! They're jamming us._

With a communications jam in effect, Gate wouldn't be able to send the message calling for help. It looked like Wedge was on his own. He took a deep breath, clearing his thoughts to concentrate on what he had to do.

He threw a quick glance over his shoulder at the red and white droid. "All right, make these guys targets one through four. And hang on!" He watched data scroll across his monitor as he prepared to make his move.

"Okay, acquire one!" He stomped the right rudder pedal and the X-wing's rear end slid around, sending him head to head with the four TIEs. He adjusted his shields to full forward and Gate beeped a lock signal on the center fighter. His targeting box winked red at the same time as green laser fire washed over the X-wing's forward shields as the targeted eyeball got off the first shots. Wedge squeezed the firing button on his stick. The TIE pilot watched his own death coming at him as the proton torpedo vaporized the viewport and hulled the cockpit. A frozen metal mist trailed from the spinning wreckage as it headed out into deep space.

"Gate, gimme two!" The other three TIEs were slow in reacting and continued on their original course. Wedge switched back to lasers and took out the second eyeball before its pilot had a chance to correct his mistake. Wedge's lasers slagged the right solar panel, sending the ship into a violent spin. A piece of the hot debris slashed through the ion engines at the rear of the ship, turning it into a brilliant, if brief,uy ball of fire.

The demise of the second TIE finally woke the other two pilots, and as he expected, they split in opposite directions. Evening out his shields, Wedge went after the one headed to starboard. Just as he'd gotten a lock on the TIE and squeezed his trigger, Gate gave a screech of warning. There was a loud _whump_ and his X-wing jarred violently. The motion caused his shot to only graze the port solar panel of his target. The TIE that had broken to port had quickly looped around and was on his tail.

Wedge swore under his breath. He had hoped he would be able to get the first TIE before the second could get into position behind him. Adjusting the power to his shields for extra coverage in the rear, he rolled the fighter up onto its starboard S-foil and screamed into a dive. The TIE on his tail followed him. The one in front dove, trying to use its greater speed and maneuverability to make an impossibly tight turn and take him head-on.

They were doing exactly what he wanted them to do. "Good boys. Now pay close attention to me, and I'll give you a lesson in situational awareness."

He tossed his ship into an erratic weave that made it look like he was out of control, and the pursuing TIE closed in for the kill. He hastily evened out his shields again and, keeping an eye on his sensors, gradually eased his spin and moved his ship into position.

A proximity warning beep sounded from his display, and he immediately dropped the fighter below its previous line of flight and headed out of the way. At that moment, the TIE behind and the TIE in front of him met in the middle. The explosion was a spectacular mix of white and orange and the phototropic shielding of his canopy polarized momentarily to protect him form the glare.

"All right, Gate, give me the next four..." His voice trailed off as he realized that the other fighters were retreating back toward the protection of the Star Destroyer. "What the...?"

The speakers in his helmet crackled to life. A different red light appeared on his comm unit as a transmission came in on an Imperial frequency. "Rebel X-wing, this is Admiral Osiel Turpa of the Q_uerulous_. You are outnumbered and cannot win this confrontation. Do you still intend to resist?"

Wedge smiled grimly. If they had stopped the jamming to contact him then maybe Gate could get a message out. Before he could say anything to his droid, he saw another light illuminate on his comm unit as the high-speed transmission began. He had to give Gate all the time he could to get the message out.

"Star Destroyer Q_ueasiness._ Of course I intend to resist. You've ruined my dinner plans for the evening and that makes me cranky. Besides, I'm Corellian. You figure out the rest." He closed the channel and made sure his shields were even back and front. He reached for the throttle and headed for the retreating TIEs.

"Very well, Rebel."

There was a blinding blue flash, and Wedge's ship gave a teeth jarring shudder. The hairs on his arms stood on end as static electricity coursed through the cockpit and blue lightening crawled over the X-wing like a swarm of insects. His engines cut out and sparks showered from his comm unit as every system went suddenly and decisively dark. Weapons, navicomp, life support; everything was offline. Even Gate, who'd given a hurried trilling screech, was rendered silent. If his diagnostics screen was working, it would have told him what he already knew: he had been hit head on by an ion bolt.

Momentum was the only thing that kept his ship moving, and suddenly even that died as the Destroyer locked the X-wing in the grip of a tractor beam. Wedge let go of the stick, and slumped back into his chair. "Well, four out of twelve isn't too bad, and it's not over until I'm dead." He reached down and pulled a holdout blaster from under his seat. He wished he had his service blaster, but it was stored in the belly of his ship along with his other personal belongings. He checked the charge of the weapon, then sat back to wait.

He watched with growing dread as the Destroyer's main hanger bay loomed larger and larger in front of him. He could see at least a dozen other ships of various sizes and types already inside. The eight remaining TIEs danced around his ship, in case he tried to make an escape.

Wedge's snubfighter passed through the magnetic containment field and settled slowly onto the deck. With no power to lower the landing gear or return the S-foils to cruising configuration, the ship rested rather unsteadily on her nose and the lower S-foils.

Two squads of stormtroopers immediately surrounded the ship. What looked like a Naval Lieutenant stood in the rear while five troopers broke ranks and approached Wedge's X-wing. Two of them began working to pry the canopy open while the other three stood close by to cover the cockpit.

As they finally pried back the canopy, all five stormtroopers quickly covered Wedge with their blaster carbines. A trooper, larger than the rest, stepped forward and Wedge slowly raised his hands. He had tucked his blaster into the front of his flightsuit. He hoped it wasn't too obvious.

"Don't even think about trying anything." The stormtrooper's voice crackled through the comm unit in his helmet. "Put your hands up where we can see them. Then very carefully and very slowly climb out of the cockpit."

Wedge did as he was told, first easing up out of the seat, then sitting on the lip of the cockpit. As he prepared to swing his legs over the side, his right hand lowered to steady him on the side of the ship. His left hand dropped to where he had concealed the blaster.

He would have to act fast, taking down the stormtroopers covering him. He had seen that Gate had recovered enough from the ion bolt that had hit the ship to be ready for a cold restart of the engines should it look like Wedge would have the chance to escape. Wedge would then have the insurmountable task of getting out of the hanger, making it past the tractor beam, the _Querulous'_s guns, her remaining fighters, and an Interdictor Cruiser. _Sounds impossible, but the odds of survival must be better than staying here. What am I thinking? What use have I for odds!_

The truth was that, despite being Corellian, Wedge had a healthy respect for odds. _Comes from being responsible for the lives of my pilots. But this is my life alone that we are talking about, and _that_ is different. _He thought briefly about Ajene, but dismissed it just as quickly. Thinking of her would not help him in this situation. It may even hinder him.

He glanced over the heads of the stormtroopers to the Lieutenant. He was a tall man with light brown hair that was graying at the temples. He wore the traditional greenish gray of the Imperial Navy. Even at a distance, Wedge could make out a pair of piercing blue eyes.

Their eyes met briefly and the Lieutenant stepped forward. He obviously had dealt with this kind of situation before. He pointed his blaster at Wedge's head. "Hold it! Get your hands up higher." The officer motioned to the large stormtrooper. "Two Eight Five, take off his helmet and leave it in the ship. Then get him down from there and search him!"

The trooper stepped forward and roughly removed Wedge's helmet. He was then violently yanked out of his cockpit. As his boots hit the deck, two of the other troopers grabbed him and forced him face down onto the cold durasteel plating. His flightsuit was searched, his blaster found and removed, then his hands bound painfully at the small of his back. He was hauled upright again and half led, half shoved over to the Lieutenant.

"You guys seem to be awfully worried about one fighter jockey," Wedge quipped.

The big stormtrooper backhanded him across the mouth with a heavily armored hand. Wedge felt his lip split with the impact and tasted blood in his mouth. He saw stars and unwillingly dropped to his knees. "Shut up, you piece of Rebel trash. You'll speak only when you're told to."

Even from the deck, Wedge could see a trooper come around the side of his ship and stop at attention in front of the Lieutenant. "It's definitely Antilles, sir. Here's the homing device. And half this side of his fighter is covered with kill silhouettes, including the two Death Stars. His droid has been deactivated and a restraining bolt placed on it."

Forcing himself to appear indifferent, Wedge looked up at the Lieutenant, but an icy lump formed in his stomach. _They were waiting for me. That means somebody sold me out. I hope I live long enough to find out who it was._

The Lieutenant grabbed Wedge by the shoulder of his flightsuit and tugged him up onto his feet. "It's him all right. I've seen his wanted posters. Doesn't look like much, does he?" There were scattered snickers throughout the group.

Wedge knew what would happen before he opened his mouth, but the Corellian in him couldn't resist the urge to say it. "I don't have to look like much. Your vape bait pilots don't last long enough to see that much of me anyway." He steeled himself for what he knew would come, and the troopers didn't disappoint him.

The butt of a blaster rifle slammed into his stomach, doubling him over, then another blow caught him over his right eye and he went down on the deck again. With his hands bound behind him, all he could do was pull his knees up in an effort to deflect some of the kicks and blows. But they came from every direction at once. He felt a sharp pop in his side, and each breath became agony.

Wedge heard the Lieutenant order them to stop, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw a white boot aiming for his head. It was the last thing he saw before everything went mercifully black.

* * * * * * *

Admiral Turpa had appeared through the door to the hanger just as Lieutenant Heblon's stormtroopers removed the unconscious pilot. They left a small trail of blood as he was dragged across the hanger floor.

Heblon studied the Admiral with discomfort. In the years he'd been with the Empire, he'd seen all manner of savagery, and known all types of commanding officers. But in all that time, he had never seen the equal of Osiel Turpa as far as cruelty. Except possibly the one time he'd seen Darth Vader in person.

Turpa had dark eyes, almost black, an aristocratic face with sharp features framed with jet black hair. Although tall and exceptionally lean, Turpa was in excellent physical condition. He kept himself that way with rigorous training, including regular hand to hand combat with a variety of mechanical, human and non-human opponents. Heblon had seen Turpa best, and kill, a powerfully muscled male Bothan commando during one of his "workouts."

"I trust that your men didn't kill him, Lieutenant." Admiral Turpa's dark eyes seemed to bore straight through the Lieutenant's, and he resisted the urge to take a step backwards.

"No, sir. He's being taken to the detention bay."

"Excellent. It would be most unwise to deprive Moff Tchlinda the pleasure of killing him. It would be a pity if you or one of your men had to serve as a replacement simply because you had been too enthusiastic." A vicious smile formed on the man's thin lips. "I imagine it will be very entertaining. I'm looking forward to the death of this filth. And I am sure the Moff will make the wait most painful for him."

Turpa's delight at the prospect of pain and suffering briefly flickered through his eyes. Heblon suppressed a shiver.

"Heblon, in order to ensure the gratitude of Moff Tchlinda, I would like for you to deal with this Antilles. I want you to use your talents to keep him healthy enough that he will survive through to the ceremony, especially when he is taken down to the planet. I know how the Moff can be. She may kill him before the monument can be completed. That would make us most unhappy."

"Yes, sir. I will see that he is taken care of."

"Splendid. Inform me when he's conscious. Dismissed." Turpa waved his hand toward the door, making it clear that Heblon should leave.

"Yes, sir." Heblon saluted, then hurried out of the hanger. Once the door closed behind him, a shiver went through him at the thought of what Turpa and Moff Tchlinda probably had planned for the Rebel pilot.


	5. Chapter 5

****

**5**

Even though he'd been conscious for a while, Wedge kept his eyes closed and lay perfectly still. His hands were still bound tightly behind him and he was starting to lose the feeling in his fingers. He listened intently to the sounds around him, orienting himself to his surroundings as best he could.

He was also giving himself a thorough, and in his opinion, well deserved, chewing out.

That was really stupid, Antilles, baiting them like that. What were you thinking? You've obviously spent too much time around Wes and Hobbie. You're supposed to have a cooler head than that. Somebody should put you on report.

He opened his eyes slightly and cringed at the bright lights overhead. He shifted positions and all of the different pains that had coalesced into one mind-numbing ache separated again into scattered bits of misery. The stormtroopers had been pretty thorough. He took a deep breath and winced with the effort, then began mentally taking inventory.

_I've definitely got some cracked ribs. Probably some pretty badly bruised ones, too. _He ran his tongue gingerly across his split lip and tasted dried blood_. The sore spots on my right hip and butt mean that I've been lying in this one spot for a while. Beyond that, I've still got one or two places that don't hurt, so I guess I'll live. For the moment, anyway._

He looked around, found his vision a bit blurred, and knew that his right eye was swollen from the blow he had taken to that side of his head. He hoped that he didn't have a concussion. He could see and feel enough to know that he was lying on a very hard bunk in a small detention cell. Beneath him, he could feel the thrum of the Star Destroyer's huge sublight engines.

_The first order of business is to get more comfortable._

Swinging his legs off the side of the bunk, he struggled to sit up. When the nausea and the wave of dizziness that the movement caused hit him, he wondered why he'd been in such a hurry.

After a few painful deep breaths, his head cleared and he slowly got to his feet. He brought his hands down to the back of his knees, then sat again. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he worked his bound hands beneath him, and then up and over his feet and legs until they were in his lap. He had used this trick often as a child when some of the children at his school had decided he made a convincing prisoner and tied him up. He was pleased that he was still nimble enough to accomplish it. _Comes from wriggling around in a cockpit trying to get comfortable on those long hyperspace flights._

He crossed his right ankle over his left knee and began to work on the heel of his boot. Specifically, he worked to free a thin sliver of metal, about five centimeters long, from the place where he'd concealed it. Finally it came free. In less than a minute, he had the binders unlocked, the "key" hidden again, and was rubbing feeling back into his bruised wrists.

_Thanks for the lock-picking lesson, Booster. That's another one I owe you._ He smiled at the memory of the big Corellian smuggler's "survival lessons" and of his parent's reaction the first time he'd unlocked a cabinet for his mother at the refueling depot when she'd misplaced her keys. As punishment, he'd been assigned to clean out the oil dump tank in the main repair bay. It was a job he had absolutely hated. It had taken him two days to clean the tank, and three days to wash the oil out of his hair and skin. Still, he'd give anything if his dad could give him the same chewing out and punishment again. He wouldn't even grumble about it this time. But that had been a long time ago, and light-years away.

_Watch it, Antilles, you'd better keep your mind on the here and now. You've probably got enough problems to keep you occupied for a while._

He could hear the approach of several people, their hollow steps falling on metal grating in the corridor. He leaned back on the bunk on one elbow, grimacing as he put pressure on his cracked and bruised ribs. But by the time they entered his cell, he was casually twirling the binders around on one finger. Two stormtroopers stopped in their tracks when they saw the binders, and the Lieutenant Wedge had seen in the hanger bay walked into them.

"You guys forgot these. I don't think I need 'em anymore." Wedge gave them his most roguish of smiles, one that he knew to be extremely aggravating.

The Lieutenant stepped around the stormtroopers and snatched the binders from him. He motioned to the trooper on the right and he advanced, shoving Wedge back on the bunk. He pinned him there with a knee on his chest, putting pressure on Wedge's already injured ribs, while his armored hand went around his throat. "Where's the pick?"

Wedge's breath left him, and getting it back wasn't easy. "Right boot heel," he managed to wheeze.

Keeping Wedge pinned, the stormtrooper motioned to one of the other troopers. "Get it, seven seven five."

"Yessir." The man knelt and managed to remove the pick from the boot. "Got it, sir."

"Now, hotshot, you got any more little secrets hidden anywhere? 'Cause if you make me search you, I promise that you won't enjoy it at all."

The Lieutenant was watching him intently. Wedge was sure that he expected to see at least a little fear in his eyes. Most people would be terrified if an Imperial Stormtrooper was kneeling on their chest. _What was that myth that Tycho repeated to our new recruits? 'Wedge Antilles has enough ice water in his veins to replenish Coruscant's polar caps._' _I wish that were true._

"No. That...that was it." He tried to take in a deeper breath and failed. "You got everything else the first time," he squeaked.

The Lieutenant had backed away from the bunk and was speaking quietly into a comlink. He finished speaking and returned to the bed, tucking the communications device into a small pouch on his belt. "Get up and behave. The Admiral wants to see you." Heblon nodded to the stormtrooper pinning Wedge, and he released the pilot. "You've got plenty of guts, I'll give you that. You had to push, just to see what would happen."

"Wouldn't you in my place?" Wedge slowly hauled himself to his feet, grimacing at the effort. Dizziness hit him again, and he had to sit back down on the bunk until it passed.

Wedge expected and braced for a blow, but it never came. He looked up to see the Lieutenant watching his every move with a mix of distrust and curiosity. "I suppose I would," he said quietly. "Bind his hands."

Wedge met the Lieutenant's gaze unflinchingly and offered his hands to him to be bound. But he just stepped back to let one of his stormtroopers approach. The trooper twisted Wedge's arm roughly behind him, but the Lieutenant stopped him. "Bind him in front."

"But sir, he's already..."

"I said bind him in front. He's probably got a concussion and he can barely stand, thanks to you. He'll have more balance if his hands are in front. I don't want to have to keep picking him up off of the deck."

"Yessir." He did as he was told, and then the two troopers took up positions on either side of their prisoner.

Heblon turned to Wedge. "But if you give us any trouble, you'll get more of what you got in the hanger bay. Is that understood?"

"Understood." With a half smile, Wedge nodded and motioned to his bound hands. "And thanks." He could see that his smile made the Lieutenant uncomfortable. He was pretty sure that the Imperial had never been thanked by a prisoner before.

"Move it." The group left the detention cell at a quick march with two stormtroopers on either side of Wedge, the Lieutenant keeping pace behind them.

As they walked, Wedge noted over his shoulder that the Lieutenant was studying him from behind with a troubled look on his face.

* * * * * * *

"So this is the legendary General Antilles." Osiel Turpa circled the pilot, inspecting him as if he were an item up for sale. Although he had to look down at him since he stood at least thirty centimeters taller than Wedge. "I'd forgotten that Rebel fighter pilots tend to be on the small side. Why do you suppose that is, Heblon?"

"I really couldn't say, sir." The two troopers stood near the door to Turpa's office, watching. Heblon stood in front of them at attention.

Turpa continued walking around Wedge slowly, an arrogant smirk on his face. Raising the pilot's chin, he studied the bruises on his face. "You really are disappointing, Antilles. I expected someone larger than life. You hardly seem worth the bounty that the Empire has on your head. You have been rather lucky for a great many years. That luck is about to run out." He continued his circling, like a predator with his prey.

"Tell me, General, how many confirmed kills do you have?" He brushed an imaginary bit of lint from the shoulder of Wedge's orange flightsuit.

"At the moment, I believe it's three hundred and eighty-nine. But that's not counting the four of yours I got today, the two Death Stars, and twenty-two capital ships and transports of various sizes." Wedge looked Turpa in the eyes and kept his expression neutral whenever the Imperial Officer's orbit brought him within view.

"Impressive. Though I believe Baron Fel of the 181st had a few more."

"Is that before or after you subtract the Imperials he shot down while with Rogue Squadron?" Wedge asked.

The Imperial officer stopped in front of him again, his smile replaced by a brief look of surprise. But it quickly became cold and ugly. "Oh, very good, General. You're proud of your kills, aren't you?

"Actually, I hate killing. But if the only way to free this galaxy from the remains of Palpatine's evil is for me to keep vaping Imp pilots, then that's what I'll do. And I'm obviously good at it since I've survived all these years."

"A pity so many of your fellow pilots can't say the same," Turpa said with a note of delight.

Wedge felt an invisible hand close around his heart as guilt over all of the pilots who had died under his command overwhelmed him. But he knew that he could not let it show on his face. Turpa would take that weakness and exploit it. "I may have lost a few pilots, but they at least died for a cause that they believed in. Not blindly following an Emperor on some quixotic crusade for control over the galaxy."

"A noble sentiment, General, but you've forgotten one thing..." Turpa turned and picked up a forty centimeter stone carving that sat on his desk. He shifted it in his hand, and it suddenly became a weapon. "You've forgotten that that same Empire owns you now."

The brutal blows to Wedge's forehead and stomach came completely without warning. Then, before he could do anything more than double over, Turpa swung the carving high over his head and brought it down across the back of Wedge's head.

As he headed for the floor, Turpa swung the carving up towards Wedge's face. With the first impact, blood from his mouth and nose spattered all over Turpa's uniform, the deck, and the white armor of the closest stormtrooper. The second one opened a deep gash over his already bruised right eye.

"And now you will be made to pay for your crimes against us. You will wish that you had _not_ survived." Turpa's face was red with rage, and spittle flecked the corners of his mouth. He raised the carving to strike again, but his hand was stayed and held in midair.

"How dare you? Remove your hands from me..." He turned and seemed to see Heblon for the first time. The Lieutenant held his Admiral's arm by the wrist above his head. "I'll have you executed for this!"

"That may be, sir. But remember that Moff Tchlinda is expecting the prisoner planet side tomorrow. If you kill him, the Moff may be...unhappy."

"Yes...yes, of course." A look of alarm crossed Turpa's features. He backed away from the orange heap in the middle of the floor and began to regain his composure. He glanced briefly at Wedge, who lay convulsing on the deck. He set the bloodstained carving back down on his desk. He straightened his jacket and was once again the perfect picture of a composed officer. Except for his blood-covered uniform. "The Moff would be highly displeased. We can't have that, can we. Take care of it, Heblon. And have my aide send someone in here to tidy up a bit."

"Yes, sir." Heblon turned and pointed at Wedge. "All right, men, let's get him back to the detention block."

The two troopers grabbed Wedge by his arms and legs and carried him from the office.

* * * * * * *

By the time the group reached the detention cell, Wedge's convulsions had increased, blood still pouring from his mouth and nose.

"Put him on the bunk and take the binders off of him."

Heblon watched as his men stripped the binders and dropped Wedge onto the bunk. Heblon stepped in to stop them. "No, lay him on his side so if he vomits he won't choke on it."

One of the troopers stood to face Heblon as the other one flipped Wedge rather violently onto his right side. "I don't get it, sir. What are you so worried about him for? They're gonna do a lot worse than this to him once he's planet side."

"Maybe so. But if he dies here, or looks like this when he gets there, Tchlinda is going to be mad as a Sith. And who do you suppose will get the blame for it? Not Turpa, that's for sure. Do you want to take his place?" He pointed at the bleeding and moaning figure on the bunk.

"Yeah. I'm beginning to see what you mean, sir."

"I thought you would. Go get some blankets, a couple of basins, and a bucket of ice and bring it back here. Now!"

"Yessir."

"Six eight two, you go to my quarters and go into the locker at the foot of my bunk. There are three bottles of Whyren's Reserve in there. Bring me the two with the blue label. Under the bunk you'll find a medpac. Bring that as well. Go to the medical bay and see if you can get some bandages out of the Emdee-One."

"Yessir." The second stormtrooper disappeared and the door closed behind him.

Heblon stripped off his uniform jacket and cap, then knelt by the bunk. His rugged face and close-cropped hair were reflected in the shiny metallic surface of the wall. He wore a look that was a mixture of anger and disgust, mostly at what Turpa had done. And somewhat at himself for not stopping his tantrum sooner.

He noted that Wedge had finally stopped convulsing, although blood was still flowing freely from him. Heblon bent down and put the palm of his left hand on Wedge's forehead, then gently opened the pilot's left eye with his thumb. He did the same with the swollen right eye, careful to avoid the long gash, and was relieved to find that they both dilated properly, although the right one was completely bloodshot. Wedge moaned with pain, coughed and spat up some blood, then drew in a gurgling breath.

It was a long fifteen minutes before the two stormtroopers clattered through the door with the items they'd gone after, and Heblon checked to see if they'd gotten everything. "All right. Now, you two get back out into the corridor and stand guard. I'll handle this. If I need you, I'll call."

"Yessir!" They hurried out of the cell, anxious to escape.

Heblon turned his attention back to the bunk. "Okay, let's get a good look at the damage." He poked Wedge in the shoulder, then shook him gently. "Antilles? Antilles! Wake up!"

The only response was another moan. Heblon stood, picked up one of the plastine basins, and headed for the small refresher station, shaking his head as he went. He filled the container with warm water, then returned to the bunk and went to work.

First, he removed Wedge's heavy flight boots. He swore when a small vibroblade clattered to the deck. "Got everything the first time, huh? I'm gettin' old." He picked up the small blade and stuffed into the pouch on his belt.

Shaking his head again, Heblon eased his bloodied flightsuit off, leaving Wedge in just his undershirt and shorts. Rolling him onto his back, he placed one of the blankets under the man's head and shoulders. Very carefully he ran his hands over the pilot's rib cage and abdomen, pressing and releasing in different spots.

Wedge cried out in pain and opened his eyes, trying to focus on the man bending over him. "Oww! It hurts. I...I'm gonna be sick." He rolled to his side, trying to sit up, and Heblon helped him, holding another basin up just in time. When he was done, Wedge flopped back onto the bed. The vomit was blood red.

Heblon rolled his eyes. "I thought so. Damn it, this was uncalled for! Slapping him around would have been enough," he rasped under his breath.

He dipped one of the cloths in the warm water, and wiped Wedge's face gently, removing some of the blood. Then he reached for the first Whyren's Reserve bottle and raised the pilot up into a semi-sitting position.

"Here you go. Drink this." He put the bottle to Wedge's lips and poured him a mouth full. Wedge obediently swallowed and Heblon repeated the action several times before he began to protest.

"Mmph." He coughed and opened his eyes, trying again to focus. He pushed the bottle away.

"It's bacta. Have some more."

"Argh! I think I'm gonna...throw up...again." And he did.

"That's all right. I'll just keep pouring it in you until you can keep it down, or you quit vomiting blood. Whichever comes first."

"O...Okay...Sure, B-Booster."

"I'm not Booster."

"Oh. S-sorry." Wedge looked dazedly at the older man. "I...I thought you were a f-friend of mine. Argh!" He doubled over, wrapping his arms around his belly and stayed that way, grunting with every breath. Finally, after several minutes, he straightened a little. "It...it's Heblon, isn't it?"

The older man started in surprise, then met Wedge's unsteady gaze. "Yeah. Evidently your memory still works." He held the bottle up. "Here, drink some more of this. As much of it as you can get down."

"All right. But it'd be a lot easier if it were really whiskey." Wedge took the bottle in one shaky hand and put it to his lips. He managed to down six or seven swallows, then stopped. Taking another shuddering breath, he turned the bottle up again and took another gulp. He clamped his free hand over his mouth, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he tried not to gag.

"Can you keep it down?"

He nodded slowly, not daring to remove his hand from his mouth.

"Can you keep it down?" Heblon asked more forcefully.

"If I don't...think about it...too much." He was very pale and was beginning to shake uncontrollably. Heblon was not surprised that he was going into shock. The pain in his stomach combined with the blood he was throwing up were clear signs that he was suffering from internal bleeding and possibly other injuries as well.

"Good. Now lie back and try to relax." He helped him ease back on the bunk, and placed a blanket over him. He raised his feet up on the end of the bed, using the bed frame as a support. "You'll have to keep warm. I'm sure that you know the signs of shock as well as I do. But the bacta should start to take care of your internal bleeding soon."

Taking a plastine bag out of the medpac, Heblon filled it with ice. "Here, hold this against your lip." Heblon handed him the ice pack, and he did as he was told.

Wedge gritted his teeth against the cold sensation, but after a moment, it seemed to help ease the pain and some of the swelling of his split lip. His eyes closed as if he had fallen asleep, but he still managed to ask a question. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because if we take you planet side in this shape, my men and I will get the blame. I don't want that."

"Oh." He touched his belly tentatively and winced. "Is that the only reason?"

"Yeah. What else would it be?"

"You...you just seem pretty good at this. Were you a doctor?"

Heblon's expression hardened. "Never mind what I was, flyboy. I'm doing this strictly to keep my own butt out of trouble. Now shut up and lie still. I'm going to take care of that eye." He took the bottle and poured some of the bacta into the bandages, soaking several of them. Wedge let Heblon work on him. By the time he'd finished, the bacta had started to ease some of the pain in his belly.

"How're you doing?"

Wedge tried to laugh, but it turned out to be a disturbing wheezing noise. "Better, I think. I'll be in good shape when they finally get around to executing me."

"Good. Now, one last thing..." He turned to the side reaching into the medpac.

"What?"

"This." He lifted Wedge's arm and held it outstretched between his own left arm and his body. He managed to slip a needle into a vein despite Wedge's feeble protests.

"Hey. No..." He tried to struggle, but the drug hit him like a speeder wreck. "Wait..." he offered weakly.

"Take it easy. It's just something to ease the pain and let you get some rest."

"H-Heblon?" His voice became thick as the drug quickly overwhelmed him.

"What is it this time?"

"Th-thank you."

"Quit thanking me, Antilles. This just postpones the inevitable."

"Thanks...anyway..." His words slurred and in the next breath he had lost consciousness. His body relaxed and Heblon lay his outstretched arm across his chest.

"That's it. You just sleep and get well. Soon Tchlinda will have you, and then you won't be my problem any longer."


	6. Chapter 6

**6**

When Ajene Tuvora walked into a tapcafe, it always produced the same result. Most of the human males, and a fair number of the non-human ones, turned their attention to watching her as she passed by. Not too obviously, of course, but they looked just the same. It produced a kind of a ripple effect when viewed from a distance.

It was also totally understandable. Looking beyond her obvious beauty, there were a couple of other features that came into focus; features which made all but the most foolhardy of men think twice about approaching her for anything more than polite conversation.

First there was the fact that at the collar of her drab green uniform, she wore the rank and insignia of a Major in the Special Forces, a branch of the New Republic Armed Forces known for being extremely adept at taking care of themselves. Secondly, there was the BlasTech DL-44 heavy blaster pistol she wore low and tied down at her right hip, which no doubt helped the former assessment.

Today was no different. Heads turned as she made her way through the crowd toward the table occupied by Tycho, Corran, and Mirax.

At her approach, Corran stood and came to attention, holding a crisp salute with only a slight smile on his face. She returned the salute, and gave Tycho an equally military salute. He looked at both of them standing at attention. "At ease, people. It's too early in the morning for all this saluting." The Major smiled, taking a seat across from Tycho and the Captain.

Tycho returned her smile. "We just ordered a late breakfast. Interested?"

"Sure." She nodded to the serving droid hovering nearby and it waddled over. "I'll have a Carridian honey roll and a hot caf." The order noted, the droid trundled off. Ajene turned her attention back to the others. "You guys heading out soon?"

"In a couple of days." Tycho shook his head. "But escorting diplomats and convoys back and forth is not my idea of fun."

"Tycho," Mirax smiled sweetly, "your beloved General, if he were here, would tell you that you didn't join Rogue Squadron to have fun."

"He probably would," Corran answered with a laugh.

"Speaking of the General." Ajene frowned slightly. "Have any of you seen or heard from him today?"

"We thought he was with you?" Corran spoke up. "I mean, you two are..." He stopped without finishing the sentence as he saw the look on his wife's face. Mirax's mouth fell open in disbelief. Tycho covered his eyes with one hand, shaking his head at his friend's blunder. "I mean...ahem...you see..." Corran blushed furiously.

"Corran, don't sweetheart. You're plotting a course into a black hole that you can't possibly pull out of." Mirax patted his hand and looked at Ajene. "Forgive him, Major. Sometimes his mouth works before his brain is fully engaged." She tapped him gently on the forehead and shook her head.

Corran looked to Tycho for help, but he just gave him the universal _you're on your own_ look. But a smile was beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth.

Ajene looked at the three of them for a moment, then started to laugh. She reached over and patted Corran's other hand. "Relax, Corran. It's not as if it's a secret that Wedge and I have been spending time with each other. I think he wanted to try to keep it quiet, but with friends like you around, I think that may be impossible."

Corran looked at her gratefully. "Thanks for coming to my rescue...But, I think I'll just sit here and keep my mouth shut."

"Good!" Tycho and Mirax responded in unison.

At that moment, the serving droid reappeared with her breakfast. There was a brief shuffle of plates and utensils, then they were alone again.

Taking a sip of steaming caf, Ajene looked at them a bit more seriously. "Wedge and I were supposed to meet for dinner last night, but he didn't show up. I just wondered if he'd left word with you." She looked into her cup for a moment before continuing. "He didn't let me know that he wasn't coming, and that's not like him."

Tycho shook his head. "You're right, that isn't like him. Wedge is very predictable when it comes to that sort of thing." Tycho tapped a finger against the table as he thought the situation over. "He flew out to Thyferra the day-before-yesterday, and was supposed to be back yesterday afternoon. We haven't been to headquarters yet today, but we were going to check in with him after breakfast. We figured he'd made it back already since we hadn't heard anything different."

Ajene set down her half empty mug of caf. "He hasn't checked in yet according to Starfighter Command. I tried to contact him on his personal frequency before coming to meet you. I couldn't reach him and no one has heard from him."

"He didn't leave you any word at all?" Mirax frowned.

"Emtrey brought a bouquet of flowers to me that Wedge had arranged to be delivered yesterday afternoon. There was a note with them reminding me about dinner. But that was it."

"I'm not liking this at all." Corran played with the food left on his plate. "We'd better get back to base and see if they've heard anything."

"I think you're right." Tycho stood and tossed some credits on the table, "Breakfast's on me. Let's go." The four of them headed for the door.

It only took them a few minutes to reach the Starfighter Command Center of Operations in the adjacent building. They went directly to the communications room. When they got there, Nawara Ven, Rogue Squadron's Twi'lek Executive Officer, was standing over one of the tech stations, frowning. He looked up when the others entered.

"I was just going to send for you, Colonel." Nawara's lekku twitched nervously behind him as he spoke. "I'm sorry to interrupt your down time, but I think we may have a problem. General Antilles--"

"--is in trouble." The Alderaanian pilot finished the sentence for him.

"Perhaps. How did you know?"

"When _isn't_ Wedge in trouble? Not to mention he didn't keep an appointment with Major Tuvora last night." He nodded at Ajene.

"Oh, Major." Nawara remembered himself and started to salute, but she dismissed it with a wave and looked at Tycho.

"Does everyone in the squadron know about Wedge and I?" she asked.

"When it comes to Wedge and women, he can't hide much from us." Tycho chuckled. "Besides, Wes figured it out. You know what that means."

Corran laughed out loud, then coughed into his hand. He then proceeded to admire the ceiling of the room.

Ajene groaned. "Just great. By now everyone between here and the Outer Rim knows."

Nawara cleared his throat to bring attention back to the matter at hand.

"What have you got, Nawara?" Corran leaned against a console, crossing his legs at the ankle. Mirax wandered over and draped an arm over his shoulder.

"When I came in this morning, I found out that Wedge still hadn't checked in, even though he was supposed to be back yesterday. I thought that maybe he had been delayed and the message just hadn't reached me yet. So I contacted Thyferra to see if he was still there."

"And?" Ajene asked

"Bror Jace said that he saw him off early yesterday morning, and Thyferran Traffic Control confirmed that his ship went to lightspeed about fifteen minutes later."

"Has there been any other word?" Tycho played with his earlobe, a nervous habit he had picked up in the last few years, probably from having to deal with Janson on a daily basis. Even after Wes had left the squadron, the habit remained.

"We didn't think so, but then someone remembered that there had been a high speed microburst signal intercepted very early this morning. At least part of one. It came through six different relays before reaching us here and was queued with the rest of the unknown traffic to be decoded at a later date."

"Is it from Wedge?" Tycho asked, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

"Like I said, it was only a partial signal, and it was sent high speed and encoded. It was pretty much ignored until now. When we started looking for Wedge, we took a closer look at it." He pointed to a Chadra-Fan technician near by. "Raned is working on it now. He's slowing it down and decoding it so that..."

The diminutive technician suddenly became very animated, chittering in his own language. The entire group turned to look at him, and he turned towards them, waving his hands in the air. He saw the confusion on the face of the Colonel and switched to Basic. "I've got it, sir! I think I've got it!"

The group moved over to look at the information that had begun to scroll on the screen. "It is from General Antilles' R5 unit. It appears to have been sent in somewhat of a hurry."

"What does it say?" Tycho asked.

"Are you sure it's Wedge's droid?" Ajene frowned at the screen.

"What does it say?" Mirax echoed as she leaned over Corran.

"It's definitely Gate's signal. All droids have their own signal characteristics, sort of like voice prints. I compared this with a recording of Gate's pattern. It's him, all right."

"What...does...it...say?" Tycho's impatience was beginning to show. He leaned menacingly in towards the technician with a hand on each arm of his chair.

"I'm afraid it's a distress call, sir," the mouse-eared technician murmured apologetically. He turned to read the message from his screen and to escape Tycho's glare. "It says 'Mayday, mayday. Taking fire. Victory Class Star Destroyer. Eight remaining TIE fighters on intercept.' It then gives part of a coordinate.

"Only part of a coordinate?" Worry began to creep into Ajene's voice.

"It was incomplete, Major. The transmission ends in static like...well, as if it was suddenly cut off."

An icy pang of fear cut through Tycho's insides. Corran visibly shivered at the same time. Mirax looked at her husband's face, and put her hand on his arm. "Are you all right?"

He shook his head. "No. I just got a really bad feeling about this. Wedge is in real trouble."

"Do you think he's been shot down?" Tycho studied the younger man apprehensively.

"I don't know. I just know that he...needs us." His eyes lost focus as he seemed to look at something that no one else could see. Then he just hung his head. "I wish I could tell you more. It...it's just a feeling."

"Well, I, for one have known you long enough to trust your 'feelings'." Tycho straightened up and took out his comlink. Adjusting the base of it, he thumbed it on. "Rogue Squadron, Priority One. Report to briefing room 6A in twenty minutes. Repeat. Rogue Squadron, Priority One. Report to briefing room 6A."

He pocketed his comlink and turned again to the Executive Officer. "Nawara, pull up what you have on the partial coordinate and plot likely points along the General's intended route home. Get as much information as you can from Thyferran Traffic Control about his possible flight plan."

"Yes, sir."

Ajene stepped forward. "Tycho, I'd like to be included in any mission you may undertake. I can pilot a Lambda shuttle."

Tycho shook his head. "I know how you must feel about this, but I can't authorize your participation in any Rogue Squadron mission."

Ajene's voice hardened like durasteel as she glowered at him. "Either you let me participate in this mission with you, or I will go on my own. The choice is up to you."

They glared at each other for a moment, neither wanting to back down. Mirax stepped in and put her hand on the woman's shoulder. "You can fly with me, Ajene. I'm volunteering the _Pulsar Skate_."

"Thanks, Mirax. I..." Ajene looked gratefully at the other woman, unable to finish the sentence.

"Trust me, I understand. I've been where you are now." Mirax gave her a reassuring smile.

Ajene took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'd better notify my unit that I may be out of touch for a while. I'll meet you in the briefing room."

Tycho gave in, unable or unwilling to fight both Ajene and Mirax. "All right. We'll see you there," he replied. She gave him a curt nod, then turned and left the room.

To everyone else, Ajene had become all business, but as Mirax watched her go, she recognized a woman trying to deal with the fear of losing someone she was beginning to care about. She'd been there herself when she and Corran had agreed to see each other and then she thought he had been killed during the Rogue's mission to capture Coruscant. "That's Wedge for you."

"What does _that_ mean exactly?" Corran asked.

"She's already falling for him. He has that effect on women and hasn't got a clue that he does it."

Nawara looked dubious as he glanced through the door that Ajene had just passed through. "Are we talking about the same person? That women who looks ready to take on a squad of stormtroopers, falling for our General?"

"Trust me on this one, Nawara. Call it woman's intuition."

"I think I'll stay clear of that one and just take your word for it," Corran said, although he knew she was right.

Tycho harrumphed. "Nawara, you should know by now that Wedge only goes for the difficult targets that everyone else says are impossible."

"I think you're right, Colonel."

"Have Shi'dora preflight our ships. Inform Starfighter Command what is happening. And see if Admiral Ackbar can fit me into his schedule as soon as possible. Okay, let's move out."

The four of them headed out of the comm center at a trot.

* * * * * * *

Tycho looked over the room and counted heads. He noted that most of the pilots were in civilian dress, evidence that he had interrupted their leaves.

Everyone was present except Nawara, who'd been delayed while notifying Admiral Ackbar of the situation and attempting to schedule a meeting for Tycho.

Corran, Mirax, and Ajene sat around a small table to one side of the room, in deep discussion over a copy of the transmission that Emtrey, the unit's protocol droid, had brought from the operations center. Gavin Darklighter sat in the front row talking with Ooryl. The Gand was demonstrating a complicated maneuver with his hands as he spoke. Myn Donos and Inyri Forge sat on either side of Varnestra, a Mon Calamari female and the most recent addition to the squadron.

Rekdon Pinkar, the squadron's towering Devaronian pilot and Wedge's wingman, leaned against a support column and silently surveyed the room. Two of the newer members of the squadron, Arata Voran, a human male from Berchest, and Rehm Shyra, a male Sullustan, lounged in the seats behind Gavin.

There was still one position in the squadron left to fill after Hobbie and Wes's transfers a couple of months before, but Starfighter Command had not yet sent them another new pilot. He figured that since they were on escort duty, they were not high on the list of priority. Wedge had been looking at candidates since his return, but had not yet made any requests.

Nawara walked in and sat down at the table with Corran and the others. He nodded at Tycho to indicate that his mission had been a success. Standing at the center of the room, Tycho began his briefing. "Rogues, can I have your attention? Sorry to have to cancel your downtime, but we've got bad news."

Everyone's attention was riveted to the squadron's second-in-command. They probably couldn't help but notice that he was giving the briefing and not their commander.

"As you know, day-before-yesterday Wedge flew out to Thyferra to give a lecture. He was due to stay overnight then head back to Coruscant yesterday morning. We have verified that he did leave there on schedule, making his jump to lightspeed on a pre-planned course. However, we have reason to believe that somewhere along his route home he was ambushed by an unknown Victory Class Star Destroyer. As of now, he is approximately twenty hours overdue."

There was a sharp intake of breath all round. Tycho knew the news would hit them hard because the Rogues were fiercely loyal to Wedge. He also knew that in many ways, Wedge seemed invulnerable to them. On more occasions than Tycho could count, Wedge had come within a hair's breadth of death and emerged with hardly a scratch. For this to happen pointed out only too clearly that Wedge, as well as everyone else in the room, was mortal.

As the shock of the announcement wore off, he could see the determined looks on their faces. He didn't need to be Force sensitive to know that they would stop at nothing to get their leader back. _If he's alive._

He tried to shake off the thought.

Gavin was the first to speak up. "Do we have any idea where he was hit and how bad?"

"We don't have a specific place, but we do have a partial coordinate that Gate sent out in a high speed distress signal."

"Partial?" Inyri frowned. "How partial?"

"Half a coordinate," Tycho answered. He glanced down at his datapad. "The actual transmission read, 'Mayday, mayday. Taking fire. Victory Class Star Destroyer. Eight remaining TIE fighters on intercept.' Then it gave the first part of a coordinate. The rest of the transmission was cut off before it could be completed."

"That could mean his ship was destroyed." Rekdon said, not sounding convinced of the fact.

"He could have been hit by an ion cannon." Corran spoke almost to himself, his arms held tightly across his chest.

"I hope you're right," Voran spoke up. "The alternative is..."

"Not up for discussion!" Tycho's voice was thick with the emotion he felt as Voran echoed his earlier thoughts. "We've tried to project likely ambush points based on the information we have and the flight plan that Wedge filed before leaving Thyferra. Admittedly it's pretty slim, but it's the best that we have right now."

He sighed, a sign of his frustration. "Look, people, we have to believe that Wedge was set up for a reason. If that is the case, they didn't plan all this just to shoot him down. They wanted him for something. I'm going to be meeting with Admiral Ackbar in..."

"Ten minutes," Nawara said.

"I'm going to be asking for permission to lead a mission to go after Wedge. Although I know that all of you will want to go, we will have to keep a four-ship element here, due to possible escort responsibilities. Who stays will be decided at our next meeting here in one hour. That's all for now. If there aren't any questions, you're dismissed."

He turned and moved back to the table, watching as the pilots that were now most likely under his command filed out of the briefing room. He could see that their morale was low. Rogue Squadron was a very tight squadron, perhaps more so than other active fighter groups, because they were often handed the impossible assignments. Wedge was the anchor that kept them all together. Some of the pilots had been with Wedge for a number of years. Tycho had known Wedge since just after the Battle of Hoth. They had flown into a Death Star together. Even after he had left to take command of a Star Destroyer and then various other ships, Wedge had remained with the squadron in spirit.

They would find their General, no, their friend, and bring him home safely. There was no alternative as far as he was concerned.

* * * * * * *

Tycho's meeting with Admiral Ackbar was easier than he thought it would be. He was sure that he would have to talk the Admiral into letting him run off with the squadron to find Wedge. Possibly yell a little. Maybe even beg.

He entered the Admiral's office and was assaulted by a wall of humidity. Being from Mon Calamari, a world of water, the Admiral found most human environments dry and uncomfortable. Here in his own office he had adjusted the environmental controls to suit his needs.

Tycho sketched a short salute and sat in the chair offered by the Admiral. Before he even had a chance to speak, Ackbar's large eyes swiveled towards him and he handed him a datacard. "Colonel Celchu, these are your new orders. Your current mission of escort duty has been given over to another unit. Your new mission is to locate and liberate General Antilles. This datacard transfers to you command of Rogue Squadron. It also permits you to operate outside the normal channels of command. I find that any Antilles group works best that way anyway. You will have your own ships at your disposal as well as a fully armed Lambda class shuttle. I have been told that Mirax Terrik Horn will offer the _Pulsar Skate_. I must insist that you check in with me occasionally, but besides that you have free reign. Do you have any questions?"

Tycho sat in stunned silence for a moment. When he finally found his voice, all he could think to ask was "Why?"

"Why what, Colonel Celchu?" Ackbar asked.

"I mean why, _sir_." He cleared his throat. "What I mean, Admiral, is that I was prepared for a fight. And here you just hand me orders telling me to do exactly what I wanted to do in the first place. I don't understand."

"It is very simple, Colonel. Whether he realizes it or not, General Antilles is a vital part of the New Republic. Next to Luke Skywalker, Leia Organa, and Han Solo, he is one of the biggest living heroes we have. If he is to be captured and killed by the Empire, morale will be depleted, questions will arise. Not to mention we will lose an efficient and capable officer."

"There is also the security issue. As a General, he is privy to all kinds of information on fleet strength, maneuvers, etc. We cannot have that information fall into enemy hands if it can be avoided." He leaned in closer to Tycho, his salmon colored flesh shining in the humidity. "The orders that you hold in your hands come directly from the New Republic Council."

Tycho gave a soft whistle. "Maybe it's a good thing that Wedge isn't here. This would go to his head. Thank you for your help, Admiral." Tycho rose to his feet in preparation to leave the office.

"Before you go, Colonel, understand this. Although you have the full support of the Council, you will not be given any capital ships. It is not publicly known, but the recent battles with Grand Admiral Thrawn and various other warlords have depleted the Armed Forces in personnel as well as hardware. We cannot afford to send any of our fleets wandering out into space looking for one General. You are on your own this time, Tycho. You will have to find your own resources without drawing on New Republic assets."

Tycho shrugged slightly. "Well, it wouldn't be the first time. But I do have some ideas already on how to go about that. I would still like to thank you for your help, Admiral. We won't let you down."

"I know you won't, Colonel." Ackbar leaned forward to emphasize his point. "Remember, the General's disappearance must remain within your group in order to maintain operational security."

"Yes, sir."

"Dismissed."

Tycho saluted and left.

* * * * * * *

After leaving Admiral Ackbar, Tycho headed through the maze of corridors that led to his small office. Once there he would prepare for the upcoming mission briefing.

Just before turning the corner that would take him to his small office, he glanced down a short hallway to his left. He stopped dead in his tracks when he realized that the door at the end of it led to Wedge's office.

He stood and stared down the corridor for a moment, somehow unable to pass it by. Memories flooded into his mind of the adventures that he and Wedge had had together, both in good times and bad, and of the stories that Wes had told not three days earlier at the birthday party.

He managed to tear his eyes of the door and continue to his own office, but his mood had turned even more somber.

Tycho had just sat down at his desk when he heard a commotion outside in the hallway. Moments later, Wes Janson burst through the door. And he was furious. Hobbie followed him at a more measured pace, but was just as visibly upset.

"What in the name of the Sith is this I hear about Wedge being ambushed?" He slammed his fists down on Tycho's desk as if to underscore the question.

The change in Wes's personality did not take Tycho by surprise. He had seen this side of him before. It was the Wes that sat in the cockpit of an X-wing and methodically killed Imperials. It was the Wes that was an expert shot with a blaster pistol. It was the Wes that hid just beneath all of the jokes and juvenile behavior.

"How did you find out about this?" Tycho asked quietly.

Wes's fury rose another notch when he didn't get an answer to his question. His usually merry voice came out in a low growl, and he leaned menacingly over Tycho's desk. "I'm warning you, Tycho. I've known Wedge longer than you have and I want to know why you didn't contact us about this."

"Major Janson, you are at attention." Tycho used all of the force at his command to make the statement an order. He watched as Wes slowly began to get himself under control and stand at attention. He saw Hobbie come to attention out of the corner of his eye. "I have asked you a question, Major. Answer it."

Wes spoke through clenched teeth while staring at an imaginary spot on the wall just over Tycho's head. "We came by to say good bye to the General before leaving Coruscant and met Captain Ven near the briefing room. He told us that General Antilles was not on base. I pressed the issue and managed to find out that General Antilles was missing and presumed ambushed."

Wes's fists opened and closed as he spoke and Tycho knew that he was nearing the end of his tether. He couldn't help but notice that Wes was wearing his side arm. "Wes, I want you to know that I would have told you and Hobbie what had happened, but I couldn't. You, better than anyone, understand the need for operational security. I don't want whoever has Wedge knowing when and where we are coming after them. If that were to happen, we may never find him. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir. Permission to speak freely, Colonel."

"Granted."

Wes's body slackened and he looked Tycho in the eyes for the first time since he had come to attention. "Hobbie and I would like to go with you."

"Impossible. Admiral Ackbar has made it very clear to me that we cannot use any other assets than those assigned to Rogue Squadron."

"What if I can convince the Admiral to transfer us to your unit?"

Tycho pulled at his earlobe again. He was surprised to find that it had become raw from all the pulling on it he had done over the last few hours, so he stopped. "Wes, if you can get yourselves transferred to this unit, we would be more than happy to include you."

Wes stood at attention again. His hand came up into a crisp salute and he held it until Tycho returned it. "Permission to leave, sir?"

"Dismissed."

He turned and left, Hobbie following silently in his wake. Tycho let out a long breath and sagged into his chair. He felt lucky to still be in one piece. He had no doubt that if he had refused the offer of help, Wes would have blown a power coupling. He hoped that the Admiral would permit them to help, but wasn't holding his breath. His luck just wasn't that good today. 


	7. Chapter 7

****

**7**

"Sir?" The young Ensign snapped to attention before Admiral Turpa's desk and saluted smartly. "We have received a signal from Moff Tchlinda. She has requested that the prisoner be brought to the palace for the festivities."

"Very good, Ensign Nesta. We will be going planetside shortly. Have my shuttle prepared and make the arrangements." He dismissed the man with a wave of his hand.

The _Querulous_ had been in orbit around Arramsetti III for the last twenty hours or so, and with each passing hour, Turpa had tried to keep his temper under control. He had contacted Tchlinda upon their arrival and she had asked that he wait on the ship until she called for him to come down to the surface with Antilles. The Moff wanted her prisoner to make an impression on the party that she was holding. Turpa had been enraged at having to sit in orbit, waiting for an invitation. But he had managed to get over it.

Turpa turned to his keypad and punched in a number. "Lieutenant Heblon."

"Heblon here, sir." The disembodied voice came out of the comm unit in a low grumble.

"You've had nearly twenty-four hours. How is the prisoner doing?"

"Better, Admiral."

"Good. Get him ready to leave. I'm assigning you and your squad of troopers to the garrison as his guard. You will be responsible for him on the planet. We'll be heading down in an hour."

"Yes, sir."

"And Heblon, make sure and clean him up. I want him presentable. Moff Tchlinda has waited a long time for this and I want it to be a very special moment for her."

"Yes, sir." Heblon repeated and Turpa ended the transmission.

Picking up the stone carving from his desk, Turpa traced the pattern that had been left on it by Wedge's dried blood and smiled. "Yes, this will be a very special moment indeed."

* * * * * * *

As Wes Janson approached the anteroom to Admiral Ackbar's office, he was still showing signs of agitation from his confrontation with Tycho. As always, he was followed closely by Hobbie. He was taller than Wes by a handful of centimeters and a number of years older, but they had been serving together on and off for a number of years, and Hobbie knew Wes better than anyone else. He could see that his friend was so determined to help Wedge that he didn't care how many bridges he had to vaporize to do it.

Hobbie put a steady hand on Wes's shoulder. "Calm down, will you! The only place we're going to get transferred to is a refuse freighter if you charge in there and start yelling at the Admiral like you did Tycho."

"We don't have time to be calm. Wedge needs us!" He shrugged Hobbie's hand off his shoulder and leaned over the desk of the Admiral's aide. "I need to see him. _Now!_"

Hobbie saw the Mon Calamari Ensign retreat half a meter from Wes. "I'm afraid without an appointment you will have to..."

"Wrong answer!" Wes marched towards the door leading to Ackbar's office, but was barred by the aide.

"You can't just barge in there!" she protested.

"Get out of my way." His tone was suddenly quiet, but somehow it was more menacing than his yelling had been. The aide was about to protest when the door behind her opened to reveal the Admiral himself.

"Come in, Major, before Ensign Yasna is forced to call security and have you removed."

The two pilots entered the office, and Hobbie closed the door behind them. He turned and stood at attention before the desk of Admiral Ackbar, beside and a little behind Wes.

"Please tell me what was so important that you felt compelled to threaten my secretary."

Wes spoke first, his voice strained in an attempt to remain composed. "Admiral, Major Klivian and myself would like to request an immediate transfer to Rogue Squadron."

"And you are making this request because..."

"I think you know why, Admiral," Hobbie added, unsure what Wes was likely to say in his current frame of mind.

"Yes, I most certainly do. I will not ask how you two have come by this knowledge because, quite frankly, I am not sure I want to know." He was silent for a moment, each of his large round eyes looking at one of the pilots. He reached out with a flippered hand and picked up his datapad. He punched a couple of keys before looking back up at the two men. "Request for a transfer approved."

"But, Admiral, I must insist that you reconsider our...approved?" Wes said and looked over his shoulder at Hobbie. He just shrugged.

"Yes, Major. Both of you join your new squadron. I'll see that the orders are processed and sent to the XO."

Wes just stood there, dumbfounded. The silence was actually quite refreshing.

"Thank you, Admiral." Hobbie said. He saluted and started to drag Wes from the room. The younger pilot stumbled along after him, still in shock.

* * * * * * *

Ackbar made a wheezing noise, the Mon Calamari equivalent of a sigh of acquiescence. The situation was getting out of hand. At this rate, most of the New Republic would know about Wedge's disappearance in a matter of hours. And if too many people found out, there would be _nothing_ he could do to help Wedge. He needed someone to help stem the flow of information.

He shook his large head and reached for his intercom. "Yasna, please contact General Cracken's office. I need to speak with him as soon as it is convenient." 


	8. Chapter 8

**8**

Heblon stepped past his two stormtroopers and down into the detention cell. He stood for a few moments and studied the Rebel who lay sleeping on the bunk.

For the last twenty-four hours he had patiently tended the man, checking his breathing, keeping the bandages wet with the healing bacta, and keeping him sedated. Now the time had come to wake him, and Heblon wasn't looking forward to it. There was something about the young pilot that made him uncomfortable.

_Maybe it's the way that he looks at me...almost as if he can see right through me._

He shook his head, unsure of the real answer to his feelings of discomfort. There was something else. Not necessarily about the man himself, but the way his words and actions made Heblon reconsider his own.

The Lieutenant was not from the same mold as Turpa and many of the other officers in Imperial service. He did not enjoy inflicting pain as they did. As the commander of his own squad of stormtroopers, however, he did not have the luxury of rethinking his actions. But he was appalled by what he had seen the Admiral do to Antilles.

Before he had given his life over to the Empire, Heblon had been a doctor in a community in a far corner of the galaxy. When that settlement had disbanded, he had roamed for a while before being accepted at the Imperial Academy on Carida. He had hoped to become a medic or doctor on a capital ship, but that had not been an option, and he had been coerced into accepting a commission. From that time on, he had never gone back to medicine.

Until now. And it looked like he was going to be playing doctor for the next few days, keeping Antilles alive so that Tchlinda and Turpa could have their fun, then kill him.

He knelt by the bunk and reached out to wake Wedge. "Antilles." He shook the man's shoulder. "Antilles. Wake up!"

"Huh? What?" Wedge opened his eyes and looked groggily up at Heblon. "Oh. It's you." He rolled over and tried to haul himself upright, then had to close his eyes and lie back down. He rubbed his hands over his face, then tried to open his eyes against the glare of the cell's glow panels

Heblon lifted Wedge's chin, checking the partially healed cut over his right eye, then the eye itself. "How do you feel?"

"Like a Death Star fell on me."

"You look like it. How's the eyesight?"

Wedge blinked and looked around the room. "A little blurry, but it'll do." He met Heblon's frowning gaze squarely. "I could target with it."

"You need to remember something, Antilles." The Lieutenant ran a hand across the pilot's ribs and stomach. "_You_ are the target here. How's the gut?"

"It's not hurting like it did, so I guess it's okay. I ought to be in good shape for my afternoon beating."

"Good. That was the idea."

Wedge rubbed the back of his neck. "I've got one hell of a hangover though. How much of that stuff did you shoot into me?"

"Maximum dose, every four hours for the last day or so. You slept like a baby. And I didn't have to listen to you thanking me all over the place."

"Oh." Wedge shifted uncomfortably. "That explains why I need to use the 'fresher so badly."

"Be my guest." Heblon stepped forward and offered his hand to help him stand. "Take it slow."

Wedge stood and waited until the cell stopped spinning, then followed the wall across to the refresher unit. "If I've been out for so long, I guess that means I'll be getting to meet this Moff Tchlinda soon," he said over his shoulder.

"That's right."

"Is this Moff as much fun as your Admiral?"

"Even more so."

"Great. Got any idea why this particular Moff is so unhappy with me? I mean, I haven't got a clue who he is." Having finished, he returned to the bunk, a little more steady on his feet this time.

"That's between you and the Moff. I am sure she has wonderful plans for you. You'll find out soon enough."

"She? He's a she?

Heblon nodded.

"I think I'm in more trouble than I thought. Mind if I ask where we are?"

"We're in station keeping orbit around Arramsetti III. On the backside of nowhere."

Wedge gave a low whistle. "You can say that again." He sat back down on the bunk just as another stormtrooper walked in carrying his duffel bag.

"Here's his gear, sir."

The trooper dropped the bag on the bunk. As Wedge reached for it, Heblon's blaster cleared leather. It came up and pointed directly at Wedge's chest. "Not so fast." He pulled Wedge's vibroblade from the pouch and held it up for him to see. "We didn't quite get everything the first time."

Wedge looked at the weapon, then at Heblon. He shrugged and gave the bigger man a half smile. "I figured it was worth a try."

"Don't touch the bag." He pointed at the duffel bag with the barrel of the blaster. "Check the stuff out, eight two five."

"Yessir." The trooper began pawing through the contents of Wedge's bag, carefully checking through everything. He came up with Wedge's service blaster and a comlink that had been tucked in one of the pilot's dress boots. "That's all, sir. Just a couple of changes of clothes, his military ID, and these." He handed the blaster and comlink to Heblon.

"All right. That'll be all."

"Yessir." The guard stepped outside the cell, standing at attention in the passage. The other stormtrooper stood across from him, his perfect mirror image.

"Okay, hotshot." Heblon moved to stand over by the door, his blaster still aimed in Wedge's general direction. "Pick up some clean clothes and move it."

"Where am I going?"

"To take a shower. The Admiral wants you to be presentable when you meet the Moff."

Wedge stood and picked up a clean outfit. Heblon walked over and took the flightsuit from him. "Not that one." Tossing it aside, he picked up Wedge's formal dress uniform and boots and handed them to him. "This."

"By all means. Anything to make a good impression," Wedge said sarcastically. He picked up his shaving gear, and started for the door. As he drew even with Heblon, he looked up at him. "By the way, thanks for taking care of me."

Leaving Heblon shaking his head, Wedge walked on out the door. His stormtrooper guard fell in beside him and led him down the corridor.

Heblon was glad that he was alone in the cell so no one could see the smile that had crept onto his face with the young man's good-natured parting shot.

_Damn you, Antilles. I don't need to start liking you._

* * * * * * *

The Lambda class shuttle _Darkstar_ circled the area once and then slowly descended towards the private landing platform on the roof of Moff Tchlinda's palace. It landed with a loud hiss of venting steam and a bone rattling rumble of repulsorlift engines. There was a hydraulic groan as its wings folded and retracted. Night had begun to settle on Arramsetti III, and a chill wind blew the steam away.

The boarding ramp lowered and a shaft of light cut into the darkness. Osiel Turpa was the first down the ramp. Immaculately outfitted in his black full dress uniform, with gleaming black boots, and a single silver medal gleaming at his throat, he was the perfect image of an Imperial Admiral. He was followed by his two aides and several other members of his staff. Their prisoner was next down the ramp, followed closely by his escort of twelve stormtroopers and Lieutenant Heblon.

Turpa crossed the platform, descended the steps to the right, and headed for the rooftop entrance to the palace. The door rose as he approached and he entered the building, his officers and escort entering after him.

Once within the colossal building, his group descended several flights of stone steps and headed for the main reception area. In the long corridor leading to the grand hall, a pair of Heblon's stormtroopers stopped every five meters or so and stood at attention. By the time they reached the end of the hallway, only two troopers remained to guard their prisoner, as well as Lieutenant Heblon.

Ornately carved double doors were guarded by two of Tchlinda's own stormtroopers. They stepped aside to permit the Admiral entry to the room.

Turpa opened both doors wide and stepped into a large gala reception, an aide at each elbow. He stood to his full height, his back straight and strong. He knew that he was an imposing figure and wanted to make sure that no one missed his entrance. He smiled at the reaction of the people in the room.

Women at the party drew back, murmuring in appreciation. Several of the ladies smiled tentatively at him, and were rewarded with a nod of faint recognition. The men who met his gaze as it swept across the room gave a half bow as a sign of respect.

But however impressive Turpa's entrance had been, it was nothing compared to the effect of his prisoner's appearance. Flanked by two armed stormtroopers, and followed by Lieutenant Heblon, General Wedge Antilles was escorted into the room. His hands were bound in front of him and he was a striking contrast to Turpa's black uniform with his white dress jacket.

Wedge had the slim, lithe body of a fighter pilot, and he moved with a loose, easy grace acquired through years of space travel. His disheveled hair and intelligent brown eyes gave his face a somewhat handsome, if boyish, countenance. Because of his size and appearance, many potential opponents often made the mistake of underestimating him.

Wedge's dress uniform consisted of a black turtleneck tunic, black trousers, high black boots, and a white jacket fastened at the waist with a gray belt. There was a slash of red running up the left hem of his jacket that continued up and over his left shoulder and down the middle of his back. It held his rather impressive collection of medals and battle ribbons. Also embroidered on it, at the shoulder, were the two Death Stars and the Star of Coruscant. The crests of the New Republic and Rogue Squadron stood side by side over his heart, with his rank insignia in gold just above them.

The wind on the roof had tousled his hair, and he reached up with both his bound hands to brush it out of his eyes. Most of the conversation in the room had stopped, and several of the women stared openly at him. He smiled and sketched a polite bow. "Ladies."

"Quiet, you." The stormtrooper beside him cuffed him on the shoulder. The women giggled and whispered to one another.

Turpa turned towards Wedge, towering menacingly over him. He gave the shorter man a sharp poke in the chest to emphasize each word. "I'd be very careful if I were you, General." His hand dropped to his side and he peered down at Wedge. "You're no longer on Coruscant. I doubt that any of these people consider you much of a hero. You owe a debt here, and you may rest assured it will be paid."

"Sorry. I was just being polite." He smiled innocently at Turpa, but Wedge harbored no illusions about his situation. He never had. He knew that there was a very real possibility that he wouldn't survive whatever these people had planned for him. The odds were definitely not in his favor. But that didn't matter, since the Corellian in conflict with the soldier at the core of him had no respect for those odds anyway.

Turpa's face reddened, and he moved menacingly toward the pilot. But he was brought up short by a velvety voice from somewhere in the crowd behind him.

"Really, Osiel," the voice purred. "That is no way to behave in front of my guests. You forget yourself."

For a fleeting instant, Wedge saw real fear in Turpa's eyes. Then it was gone. The Admiral turned towards the source of the voice, and Wedge had his first real look at her. Standing several centimeters shorter than Wedge, the woman had an elegant figure that was enhanced by the low cut, softly draped blue gown that she wore. Her shoulder length brown hair cascaded around her as she moved, and her complexion was pale and creamy, accentuated with eyes that were a startling amber color. She was an absolutely stunning and intense woman.

The crowd parted as she descended from her dais situated at the center of the room. They acknowledged her with brief bows and curtsies as she swept by, her dress rustling as she walked. From the reaction of the people in the room, Wedge knew she had to be Moff Tchlinda. She was not at all what Wedge had expected. He was prepared for someone much more...Imperial. Tall, cold, radiating evil. Although Tchlinda was not obviously any of those things, he could still see an echo of the same cruelty in her eyes that he had seen and experienced in Turpa. Though he was surprised by her appearance, he tried to keep his own expression neutral.

Stopping directly in front of him, Moff Tchlinda examined him from head to toe. She studied him closely, her eyes taking in each detail. She hesitated briefly at the images of the two Death Stars, then continued until she found her look being met evenly by Wedge's nonchalant, brown-eyed gaze.

She spoke to the Admiral without removing her eyes from Wedge. "Osiel, where are your manners? Please introduce us."

"As you wish, your Excellency." He bowed formally to her and moved between her and Wedge. "Lady Lathel Tchlinda, I present General Wedge Antilles of the Rebel Alliance, Commander of Rogue Squadron. It was General Antilles who killed your sons during the Rebels' cowardly attack on our beloved Emperor at Endor."

There was a collective gasp from the room, and Turpa's cold smile turned to Wedge. "General Antilles, it is my honor to present Her Excellency, Moff Lathel Tchlinda, Commander of the Imperial forces in the Arramsetti Sector."

"General Antilles. I have been looking forward to this for a very long time." Her open handed slap landed solidly on Wedge's left cheek, leaving a red imprint of her hand.

Whatever reaction she and Turpa had expected from him, it definitely wasn't the one they got. He made a split second decision to keep them off guard. Without hesitating, he took the hand she'd slapped him with in his bound hands, bowed to her briefly, then kissed her hand. "Lady Tchlinda, you have my deepest sympathy for the pain caused by the loss of your sons. I owe you that much. But that is all I owe you." He straightened up and continued to meet her gaze as he released her hand.

She stared at him incredulously for a long moment, then laughed out loud. It was a laugh that did not express any amusement but the bitter cruelty that he had noted earlier. If he wasn't sure before, this all but confirmed it.

_I am in _real_ trouble._

"I see now why you've been such a thorn in the Empire's side. You are utterly fearless." She moved closer to him and lightly caressed the cheek she had just struck. "And, I must admit, I never expected you to be quite so charming. Come, let us go in and have dinner." She reached to take his arm and he held up his bound hands, shrugging apologetically.

"Lieutenant?" She motioned to Heblon, who stood behind Wedge. "Remove these binders."

Turpa stepped in front of Heblon before he could reach the pilot. "Your Excellency, that may not be a wise idea. He has already resisted..."

"Osiel, if these two armed stormtroopers are not enough to stop General Antilles should he decide to cause trouble, then I doubt very seriously that the binders will be much of a deterrent. Proceed, Lieutenant."

Heblon grabbed Wedge's shoulders and turned him roughly around to face him. He poked Wedge in the chest with a finger, speaking in low tones. "Okay, flyboy. Remember that _target_ we talked about." Heblon's voice was deadly serious.

"I will." Wedge rubbed his wrists, and nodded his understanding of the hidden warning. He turned back to Moff Tchlinda and offered her his arm. She took it, and they walked into the dining room together.

Turpa stalked after them, pure rage flowing from him. Heblon and his two men followed.

* * * * * * *

When the Rogue Squadron briefing began, there were two extra pilots in the room. Tycho had known that Wes and Hobbie would be joining them, because Nawara had received their transfer orders not a half-hour before and had notified him by comlink. He didn't know how they had convinced Admiral Ackbar to transfer them, but he was pretty sure that he was better off not knowing.

Tycho stood and straightened the front of his black flightsuit. Although most of the pilots in the squadron wore the typical New Republic orange, he had always worn black. It dated back to his days at the Imperial Academy, where he had graduated as a TIE pilot. But it also served to remind him of what he had nearly become before the destruction of his home planet had forced him to defect to the Rebellion.

The only real change he had made to his flightsuit was the addition of New Republic battle tabs, including a rather large ribbon representing the part he played in the taking of Coruscant. It was only one mission of many that he had undertaken to atone for his time with the Empire. He shook his head to steer clear of those thoughts and turned his attention to the pilots in front of him.

"All right, everybody. If you could settle down, we'll get started."

Everyone took his or her seats with hardly any commotion. The squadron was unusually quiet, and that concerned Tycho a bit.

"Since our last meeting, I've spoken with Admiral Ackbar and this is where we stand. I have orders releasing all of us from our previous assignments, including new Rogues Wes and Hobbie. As yet, we don't know the location of General Antilles, but have narrowed the ambush point down to an area of space approximately three hours out of Thyferra in the outer reaches of the Llessgha System."

He signaled to Nawara and the lights in the room dimmed. Just in front and to the right of where Tycho stood, a holoprojection of the Llessgha System sprang up. It was an ordinary system, containing three planets, all of them gaseous in nature, with one very average white star at its center.

Tycho pointed to a certain area and it expanded to show a sector of space that was entirely featureless. "It is an area of space with no moons or planets for several light years. The perfect spot for an ambush. Two hours after this meeting ends, most of you, including Captain Ven in our assigned Lambda shuttle, _Stardust_, will be heading for these coordinates and will commence a search of the area. Major Janson will be in command."

There were several groans throughout the group, but whether it was about searching in the middle of nowhere or the fact that Wes had been put in charge, he wasn't sure.

"I know it doesn't sound like much, but it's all we have for the moment. We're looking for any kind of clue to what happened to Wedge and where they went after they ambushed him. While you are making your search, I will be heading straight through to Thyferra with Corran, Mirax, and Ajene to meet up with Bror Jace and see what we can find at that end."

The holoprojector shut down and the glow panels in the room returned to normal illumination. "Now, with the return of Hobbie and Wes, I've had to juggle some of the call signs and flight assignments. For this mission and any others concerning the search for General Antilles, we will have the following numbers: I will be Rogue Lead and will be in command of One Flight as well as the squadron as a whole. Rekdon Pinkar, you will remain Rogue Two and will be my wingman. Arata Voran and Varnestra, you are Three and Four and round out the Flight."

Each pilot nodded an acknowledgement of his or her assignment.

"Gavin, you are Rogue Six with Rehm Shra as your wingman, Rogue Five. You'll be in charge of Two Flight. Myn Donos and Inyri Forge, Seven and Eight, will remain wingmates and join Gavin's Flight."

Gavin gave one of his rare smiles since Asyr had been killed. Tycho was glad he had put him in charge of Two Flight. Perhaps some responsibility was just what the young man needed to help him move on.

"Corran, you and Ooryl are still Nine and Ten, together as always. Corran will be in charge of Three Flight. Hobbie, you're Eleven and Wes, Twelve. I've paired you two together because no one else wanted you."

There were some chuckles from the back row, but Wes's glare quieted them.

"Although Wes will be in charge of the entire group in my absence, I have left Captain Horn in charge of Three Flight. I hope that is all right with both of you." Both pilots nodded. "Does anyone have any questions?"

No one did.

"Okay. As of now, you are all under the usual security restrictions. Get all your affairs in order and pack what you'll need. We have no idea how long this will take. We will be basing our operations from Thyferra. Your coordinates and search grids have been downloaded to your datapads and astromechs. Study them before we leave. Dismissed."

Corran and Mirax remained behind after the others had filed out of the room. "Do you think searching deep space is really going to help find Wedge?" Corran asked.

"I doubt it, but unless you have some way of pulling his location out of thin air, I don't see any other way of going about it."

"That's what I thought. I hope Bror has something for us."

"So do I, Corran. So do I."

* * * * * * *

The Moff's party hadn't ended until well after midnight. After the guests had departed, Wedge's wrists had been bound again and he'd been escorted upstairs to what he discovered were Moff Tchlinda's chambers. After shoving him into the room, the two stormtroopers remained on guard outside the door, leaving Wedge alone with her.

She sat at an elaborately decorated dressing table, brushing her hair with her back to the entrance. When the door closed behind Wedge, she turned to look at him. She had changed from the elegant dress she'd worn earlier to an enticingly low cut nightgown of diaphanous silk. It left almost nothing to the imagination.

And although the picture she presented was an extremely agreeable one, Wedge tried to keep his mind on the present. Over a long career of surviving whatever his enemies threw at him, he'd developed a number of instincts that warned him of impending danger. As he stood staring at her, every single one of those alarms was sounding at full volume.

"Ah, General." Her smile was dazzling as she stood and moved over to sit on the bed. "Come. Sit and we'll...talk." She patted the bed next to her.

Wedge shook his head and remained close to the door. "Thank you, your Excellency, but I'd rather stand. If you don't mind."

"Don't tell me that you're shy about being in a lady's bedroom. Don't be afraid. I won't bite. Unless, of course, you'd like me to."

"No. It's not a question of fear."

"Love, then? You have a sweetheart that you've pledged yourself to, and you do not want to betray her."

His thoughts turned briefly to Ajene, but he tried to push them aside. "There would be no betrayal...if we just talk." His mind reeled as he tried to imagine where Tchlinda was going with this whole seduction scene.

She stood and moved over to him, the silk of her nightgown spread out behind her like the tail of a comet. "General, what is the real reason that you will not remain here with me?" She moved around him lazily, running her hand along the small of his back, then playing with the gray belt at his waist. She reached up and brushed some stray hair from his eyes.

"Well, you are an Imperial Moff." He looked at her steadily. "I make it a rule never to go to bed with someone who intends to kill me, and that makes life less complicated. Not to mention longer."

"Ah. But..." She moved closer to him, lifting his bound hands, then slipping them over her head so that his arms encircled her. "Rules are made to be broken, and sometimes complications can be quite pleasant."

She put her lips to his and kissed him provocatively, insinuating all sorts of interesting possibilities. She stopped after a long moment when he refused to respond.

"Really, General. You disappoint me. I would have thought you'd be a bit more...responsive." She slipped a hand inside his jacket, caressing his chest. He winced slightly as she reached his bruised ribs. Her hand dipped further still, making him extremely uncomfortable and his cheeks burn despite his best efforts.

He shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. "Sorry, but I haven't had quite enough to drink to make you desirable. And it would be wrong of me to take advantage of you while you're in such an obvious state of grief." He met her withering look as her hand retreated and she freed herself from his arms.

"Very well. If that is the way you want it." She reached out and caressed his face with one hand. "But it is a pity. It could have been very interesting."

"I'll bet," he replied sarcastically.

She slipped her hand from his cheek, her nails scrapping his skin as she did so. "Guards!" The door opened and the two stormtroopers entered. "Take General Antilles to his room. His interrogation will begin in the morning."

"Yes, your Excellency. Move it, you!" The trooper jabbed Wedge in the ribs with his blaster rifle, shoving him out the door. Wedge clutched his side, but he welcomed the pain as it returned him to reality. A reality that Moff Tchlinda seemed to be living outside of.

* * * * * * *

After the door closed behind Antilles and his guards, a dark figure moved toward Tchlinda from the next room.

"You see, my dear? I told you that your offer would be wasted on him. He suffers from an unfortunate case of moral decency. Besides, I doubt that you would find him very satisfying." The man walked up to her and put his arms around her. "You need someone with stronger passions. More varied experiences. Don't waste your time with his...kind."

She reached up and removed the silver medal from his black uniform, tossing it onto the dressing table, before beginning to unbutton his black jacket. "I suppose you're right, Osiel. But it's a pity that now I'll never know. Still, there will be the pleasures of making him pay for his crimes against the Empire and the death of my family. And that will satisfy me very much."

"Assuming that the New Republic does not find out where he is and send a fleet in to destroy us."

She fixed him with a hard stare. "You have assured me that you took proper precautions when you captured him. Your report stated that you made sure to collect all debris from the area and that you jammed all transmissions. There is no way for the New Republic to trace Antilles here. Unless you have something you wish to tell me, Osiel?"

"No, of course not. The mission was completed to your specifications. But the Rebels are notoriously lucky. Should they stumble across..."

"Osiel, I have waited six very long years for just the right moment to put this plan into motion. Waiting until General Antilles was alone, vulnerable, in a position where we could capture him without the knowledge or interference from his friends. Now that that time has come, I _will_ see him die. The Rebel Alliance cannot steal that moment of revenge from me as Antilles stole my sons. This I swear. And once I kill Antilles, Imperial Command will finally see that I am worthy of my status. They will give me a position of power, and you, Osiel, will follow me to greater heights as we crush the heart of this rebellion once and for all!"


	9. Chapter 9

****

**9**

Standing at the window of the small bedroom that served as his temporary cell, Wedge watched the Arramsetti sky as it changed from night to earliest morning. Traces of pink and pale yellow had begun to ease their way into the deep blues and purples of the night. It held the promise of a beautiful sunrise, and the thought struck him that he should probably enjoy it, since it might be his last.

Instead, he turned away and moved deeper into the shadows of the room. Looking around, he finally sat down on the barely disturbed bed. He'd been unable to sleep after Heblon had locked him in, and had spent the night replaying the events of the previous days in his mind.

First there was the bizarre situation of his being at a dinner party in a room full of Imperial sympathizers who probably intended to kill him. The food and drink had been delicious and he'd been treated like any other guest, except for the constant watchfulness of the two stormtroopers shadowing his every step.

There had been the polite conversation. He was questioned by some of the guests about his reasons for being a member of the 'criminal' Alliance, and then called a liar for giving his honest answers. And through it all, he'd seen the looks that Turpa gave him. They had become more and more poisonous every time they made eye contact.

There had also been a tour of the monument that the Moff was having built in honor of her sons. It was huge, made from a black granite material and had two heroically posed statues of the slain men, each easily twenty meters high. There were TIE fighters, the Death Star, and a eulogy carved into the stone.

Someone had asked what the purpose was of the large, empty area at the front of the monument. The Moff had smiled mysteriously and said that they'd know within the next few days, that there would be a "special addition" to the work.

Then there was the big Lieutenant who had cared for him since he had been beaten by the stormtroopers and the Admiral. He had never met any active Imperial quite like him before. Heblon was a puzzle that he hoped he had time to figure out before they eventually got around to executing him.

Wedge rubbed his face with both hands and looked around the room again, wondering how much longer he had before they came for him. He hadn't heard anyone stirring yet.

As he glanced at the window again, his thoughts turned to home. He knew that Gate had managed to send some kind of rushed signal, but he didn't know if anyone would receive it and if it was even complete enough for them to figure out where he was_._ With that thought, he wondered what had happened to his droid and his X-wing.

He knew that Tycho and the squadron would have figured out that he was missing by now and had probably mounted some kind of search for him. How much of one, and how long they'd keep at it, he didn't know. But if Tycho or Corran had any say in the matter, it would be pretty thorough.

He doubted that they'd find him though. He'd been back over the details of his ambush numerous times, and came to the same conclusion each time. He'd simply vanished, leaving no trace, between Thyferra and Coruscant. And he was pretty sure that was Tchlinda's intention. Finding him would be next to impossible.

_Hey, impossible is Rogue Squadron's stock in trade, _Gavin's voice reprimanded him.

Then he thought of Ajene, and a pang of regret cut through him. He had told her that the reason he remained alone was because he never knew if the person he got close to would be around for much longer. And here he was, a few days later, half a step from being killed.

He _almost_ regretted the fact that they had gotten together before he left. She would be suffering because of his disappearance. At least he liked to think she would be. But she was one tough lady, and he knew that she would get through it. That was just one of the things that attracted him to her.

He remembered their dinner date for the night of his return. Their time together had been brief, but the memory of her kept his spirits up. _She'll be looking for me, too._

The clatter of armor down the hall and voices approaching the door brought Wedge out of his reverie. He remembered the bottle that Heblon had slipped into his palm before locking him in for the night. Reaching deep into one of his pockets, he brought out the small glass vial and held it up to the morning light. It contained several grams of a transparent green liquid. He hesitated before opening it, not fully trusting what the Lieutenant had told him. _Before they come for you in the morning, swallow this. It'll make things easier on you. It's the best I can do._

It could be a trick to drug him so he'd talk easier, but he didn't get that kind of feeling about the man. From all that Heblon had done for him since his arrival, it looked more and more like he was defying, albeit surreptitiously, his commanders. That may be something that Wedge could use.

He looked down at the small bottle, and decided that if they really wanted to drug him, he doubted he would be able to prevent it. It was a risk worth taking.

He could hear the combination being punched into the pad outside the door, and he hurriedly opened the bottle, downed the contents, then slipped it into a drawer. The liquid was bitter and he had to try hard to swallow it. He felt, not for the first time since his capture, a twinge of fear. He was not looking forward to this.

He took a deep breath and stood to wait for them.

The door opened and four stormtroopers walked in, followed closely by Admiral Turpa.

* * * * * * *

Tycho's X-wing screamed through the early morning atmosphere of Thyferra, the only inhabited planet of the Polith System, on a heading given to him by Bror Jace. _Much as Wedge probably did three days ago._

He looked over his left shoulder and caught sight of the _Pulsar Skate_ about a hundred meters behind and fifty meters above him. Beyond the _Skate_ was the green and black outline of Corran's snubfighter. The rest of the squadron would be coming in to Thyferra in seven hours for some sleep and then return to the search grid that he had set out for them.

_That is unless we find something here that gives us a new destination._

Corran's voice broke into Tycho's thoughts. "I sure hope Bror has managed to dig something up on this end. Not finding any kind of clues is really starting to annoy me."

Tycho could hear the frustration in Corran's voice and felt some of it himself. "Agreed. The longer it takes to find a lead, the less chance we have of finding Wedge. But I guess we'll know soon." Tycho tried to sound optimistic, but underneath, there was a great deal of tension in his voice that only someone who knew him well could recognize.

The _Skate_, flanked by her X-wing escort, circled, then settled onto the ferrocrete landing field in the Thyferran city of Sandosta. They cut their repulsors almost in unison, but Tycho was first out of his ship. He didn't wait for a tech to put a ladder up against the side of the fighter. Instead he slipped up and over the lip of his cockpit, hanging over the side and dropping easily to the ground a few meters below. Corran was soon at his side, glancing behind him to see if Mirax and Ajene were within sight yet.

Bror Jace emerged from the hanger to the right and jogged over to them. Bror had flown with Rogue Squadron when Wedge had reformed it three years earlier. He had returned to his home planet when a member of his clan was reported to be fatally ill, but his X-wing was ambushed and destroyed by one of Ysanne Isard's ships and he was presumed dead. In actuality, he had gone underground on Thyferra and was helping the Ashern Rebels to overthrow Isard.

When he came back from the dead, he had briefly flown again with his former squadron in the Battle of Thyferra. After that, he had been assigned by his government to head the formation of the Thyferran Aerospace Defense Force.

He greeted Corran and Tycho both with back slapping hugs and Mirax with a gentler hug. Corran shook his head and pointed to Jace's short pants, grinning. "They're still not letting you shop in the adult department, I see."

"No, this is a pair of your hand me ups."

The two men, who had once been rivals in the squadron, laughed. Bror gave Corran a friendly punch to the shoulder. Tycho looked over at Ajene, who had just joined them after emerging from the _Skate_. She was shaking her head. "They do this all the time," he explained with a smile.

"Oh. _Friendly_ rivals, huh?"

"Exactly. Bror?" Tycho motioned to the woman standing next to him. "This is Major Ajene Tuvora, of the New Republic Special Forces. Ajene, this is Major Bror Jace of the Thyferran Aerospace Defense Force."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Major." He shook her hand, then turned back to Tycho and Corran. "We've made some headway on our end of the investigation. Come into the Operations Center and I'll tell you what we've managed to find."

The group entered the Ops Center and they were lead directly to Jace's office. He closed the door behind them and motioned the two women to the seats in front of his desk. Corran remained standing behind Mirax's chair as Tycho leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the small room.

"When Nawara contacted us, we began checking to see if anything unusual happened while Wedge was here that may have had some bearing on his disappearance. Basically we found that it was a pretty short and straightforward visit. He came to give a lecture about fighter cover for convoys that the New Republic and Thyferra were putting together. It was a well-publicized visit, no big secret."

"After his lecture, we had dinner together and visited a while. He spent the night in the guest officer's quarters at the base here. Next morning, we met for breakfast, and then he raised ship."

"That doesn't tell us anything we didn't already know." Tycho frowned. "What was the headway you mentioned?"

"In questioning the people here at the landing zone that were in a position to observe his ship while it was here, we came across something suspicious. Several of our people had noticed a ground crewman hanging around Wedge's ship for longer than usual. They didn't think anything of it at the time, but now, we decided to take a closer look."

Corran raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"We started a search for him based on the descriptions of our own ground crew, but he seemed to have disappeared. Then we got lucky. He tried to leave Thyferra and was caught at customs." Bror smiled. "We've got him in custody."

"In custody. Two of my favorite words." Corran rubbed his hands together, a devilish grin on his face. Mirax nudged him in the ribs and he looked down at her. "What?"

She gave him a dirty look and turned away from him. "You don't have to look so happy about it. If you were a smuggler, you wouldn't like those words at all.

"I thought you'd like them, Corran." Bror smiled at him.

"Would it be possible for us to question him?" Tycho asked. "I mean, he is a Thyferran citizen, I presume?"

"He is. But that won't be a problem. Only two or three of my people know that we even have him and why he's in custody." Bror made sure to say 'in custody' very slowly and deliberately. Mirax looked vibroblades at him.

"Wedge is important enough for us to bend some rules. And since this is a military base and not a local Security Outpost, we have a certain amount of...let's call it leeway." He came around his desk and clapped Corran on the shoulder. "Want to play a little CorSec?"

"Oh, I'd love to."

"Good officer, bad officer?" Tycho pointed first to Corran then to himself.

Corran shook his head. He pointed to Tycho. "Bad officer," then to himself, "worse officer. With a couple of not too happy ladies thrown into the bargain." He looked over at Bror. "We need to get out of these flightsuits."

"No problem. You can change in there." He pointed to an adjoining room.

"Good. I'll go get our gear." Corran winked at Mirax and Ajene as he headed out the door.

Mirax smiled at Ajene. "This is going to be interesting. Corran is very good at this."

Ajene's face remained serious. "I just hope it works. For Wedge's sake."

* * * * * * *

Once Corran and Tycho had changed into their New Republic uniforms, the group followed Bror down to the lowest level of the Ops Center and to an interrogation room at the very end of a long hallway. It was the kind of place that was very familiar to Corran. As a member of the Corellian Security Force, he had performed hundreds of interrogations in places just like this.

He felt a tremendous amount of relief at finally being able to do something to get the situation back under his control. Ever since they found out that Wedge had been attacked, he had felt the situation spiral out of his hands. And it was not a feeling he enjoyed.

The two guards at the door came to attention just before they reached them. Corran looked at Jace with raised eyebrows.

Bror pointed at the two of them. "You don't know a thing about the prisoner, do you, fellas?"

"About what, sir?" One of them smiled.

"What prisoner, in where, sir?" the other one echoed.

Corran gave them a crooked grin, then turned to the group behind him. "Okay. Everybody ready? You all know your roles and what's expected of you."

There were nods all around. Even though Tycho was in charge of the squadron and all of its missions, he had let Corran do all the planning for the interrogation because he knew that it was his area of expertise. Not for the first time, Corran's respect for Tycho grew. It took a great man to know when to step aside and let others take over. His father had been like that. _And Wedge, too. _"All right. Let's go."

Bror opened the door, and everyone filed into the room. The man within stood up and immediately started whining. "What's going on here? I ain't done nothin' wrong, and I'm being treated like a criminal. I demand to know what I'm being charged with."

Tycho walked over and shoved the man roughly back down into the chair he'd vacated. "Sit down and shut up, Frew. If that is your real name. You're not in any position to demand anything."

"Who are you?" He looked at Tycho's New Republic uniform, then at Bror. "I'm a Thyferran citizen, they have no jurisdiction over me. You can't let them..."

"I can let them do whatever they want. And if I were you, I'd cooperate with these people, because you really don't want to get on their bad side. So, why don't you just tell them what they want to know about the disappearance of Wedge Antilles."

Frew studied them for a moment, then leaned back in the chair. Corran had seen this kind of reaction before. Since Frew knew that he had information that they needed, he felt like he had something to bargain with. "I might answer some questions, if those two honeys ask them." He leered at the two women, who'd leaned against a table in the corner of the room.

"Hey!" Corran gave him an open-handed slap on the back of the head. "That dark haired 'honey' is my wife, you slime-trailing Hutt."

Tycho leaned in close to the man, his hands on each of his shoulders. "You're not off to a very good start here, Frew." He nodded at Corran. "You see, his wife and Wedge were raised together. He's like a brother to her. And she's _not_ happy about him being missing. Neither is her father, Booster Terrik. Ever hear of him?"

The man paled visibly at the mention of the ex-smuggler's name. He thought about it briefly, then seemed to get some of his nerve back. "Yeah? Who's the other one? His mother?"

"Wrong again, little man." Ajene moved across the room so quickly that Tycho just managed to get out of her way. She leaned over the man in the chair, smiling sweetly. She caressed his cheek with her left hand, lifting his face so he looked up at her and not at her cleavage. Her right hand moved suddenly in a flicking motion and the unmistakable hum of a vibroblade sounded near the man's exposed throat. "I'm a good friend of his. And if you think you need to worry about what Booster Terrik might do to you, you don't know the half of it. Compared to what I have in mind, you'll _enjoy_ dealing with him."

"Ahem." Jace cleared his throat and Ajene backed off a meter or two. "In case you didn't notice, Frew, those three pips she's sporting on her uniform means that she is a Major in the New Republic Special Forces. She could fillet you with that blade in time for you to show up on the supper menu at the nearest Shistavanen tapcafe." Bror smiled coldly. "And the two gentlemen present both spent time at a charming little place called _Lusankya_, as guests of the late Ysanne Isard. So they know all sorts of interesting techniques for 'information retrieval,' which I'm sure they'd love to share with you."

What little restraint Frew had quickly dissolved at the mention of Isard. "You guys have made a mistake. I don't know n-nothin' about nobody disappearing." His voice developed a nervous squeak. "I ain't done nothin' wrong!"

He reached over and picked up a glass and a pitcher of water from a tray at the center of the table. He poured a little of the water into the glass with a shaking hand. He had just brought the glass to his lips when Corran slapped it out of his grasp and it shattered against the far wall. Corran grabbed the man's shirtfront and jerked him half out of the chair.

Although he was not as tall or as well built as Bror, Corran knew that he could be very intimidating if he wanted to be. And he had played this role so many times that he could do it in his sleep. "That's it, I've heard enough." He pulled his blaster from its holster and aimed it between Frew's legs. "I think you better start answering some questions, or you're going to start losing some parts. I'm sure we could learn as much from an autopsy if we had to."

"Wha...whadda ya mean? You can't d-d-do that." Frew looked wildly at Jace. "You...you can't let him do that. _Tell him he can't do that!_"

Bror looked at Corran with feigned disapproval. "You can't do that," he almost sang the words. He wagged his finger at the Corellian.

_I never gave Bror enough credit. He's _really_ good at this._ Corran fixed Bror with a glare. "The hell I can't! Just watch me." Corran's green eyes danced, wild with rage.

"I tried reasoning with him, Frew," Jace shrugged. "You know how difficult these Corellians can be."

Corran prodded with the blaster. "Do you know how easy it would be to make you disappear? Slice a few records here; change a few words there. We load what's left of you in the hold of our ship and once we get off world, dump you out the airlock. Poof! No more Nored Frew. End of story." Corran leaned closer to the man. "You get the holo?"

"Okay...All right...W-whadda ya wanna know?"

"Who hired you, and what have they done with General Antilles?" Ajene moved closer, a foreboding look on her face.

"Oh man...I don't know." Sweat poured down Frew's face.

"Wrong answer. Start with his elbow, Corran." Ajene pointed with the vibroblade, then put it back to the man's throat. "We can work our way down."

"Good idea," he said, and moved the barrel of the blaster. He was impressed with Ajene's additions to the character that he had given her to play. The only thing was that he wasn't entirely sure she was acting.

"No! No! Please, don't. I...I really don't know. It was a contract. The word was put out to be on the lookout for Antilles' ship at the spaceport. Who-whoever found it was to put a tracker on it. The client even supplied the tracker."

"How'd you collect the money? Who was the contact?" Tycho asked.

"I left word at a local bar as soon as I planted the tracker. The bartender gave me my money."

"What bar? What was the bartender's name?"

"It was The Nightside in the Eastern District. His...his name was Marth."

"You better not be lying about this." Ajene increased the pressure of the vibroblade ever so slightly underneath the man's chin, and a drop of blood appeared from the resulting nick.

"I'm not. Really, I'm not." The man was near collapse. "I-I swear!"

Corran released the man's shirt and shoved him back into the chair. "If you are lying, she and I are coming back. And you will not be happy to see us." He backed away, never breaking eye contact with the prisoner.

Tycho moved back in front of Frew. "How much?"

"Huh?"

"How much? How many credits did they pay a piece of rancor bait like you for the life of a man like him?"

"Fif-fifty thousand credits." He shrank back into the chair, away from the look in Tycho's eyes.

"You'd better enjoy it while you can and hope that we find Wedge alive. Because if we don't, I'm giving her father your name, and believe me, there won't be a corner of this galaxy dark enough for you to hide in."

Corran moved over to Tycho and put a hand on his shoulder. He could feel him trembling with barely controlled fury. He had never seen him like this before. He physically moved Tycho away from the prisoner, and Ajene moved in to take his place. "Remember. If you're lying, he and I will be back."

In one effortless move, she took the top four buttons off the front of Frew's shirt with the vibroblade. She turned her back and walked out the door, followed by the others.

Bror Jace was the last to leave. "I think we'll keep you here a while longer, Frew, just so we know where to find you if necessary." He patted Frew on the head. "But it won't be necessary, will it?"

"N-no, s-sir!"

"Good."

Once outside, he closed the door and turned to Tycho and the others. "Well?"

"Well, it looks like we go to The Nightside and have a little talk with Marth." Tycho said. "And we had better get some answers."

Mirax looked over at Tycho when she heard his tone of voice. "Are you all right?"

He visibly sagged as the anger left him all at once. "Yeah, I guess so. But not knowing what's happened to Wedge is really starting to eat at me. He stood up for me when no one else would. He's saved my life countless times. I just hope I can do the same for him this time."

Corran thought of the man that they were desperate to find. "He's done so much for the New Republic, how can we do any less for him? We _will_ find him, Tycho. I know it. We just have to keep looking. Let's find out where that bar is and get some answers." Corran took Mirax's hand and led the group down the long hall.


	10. Chapter 10

****

**10**

Stars and comets up on high,  
Gently light the night time sky.  
Hush, my darling; rest your head,  
Snuggled safely in your bed.

Mommy loves her little boy,  
Daddy's pride and mother's joy.  
So I'll hold you, young one, close and near,  
To keep you safe from hurt and fear.

--Old Corellian Lullaby--

Wedge used all of his remaining strength to concentrate, trying to remember the words to the lullaby his mother used to sing. He seemed to be having a lot of trouble remembering things clearly, but he knew he needed to know those words. They were the only things that could keep out the pain. If only his head didn't hurt so much. Or the rest of his body, for that matter. It made it awfully hard to concentrate on anything as other jumbled thoughts kept getting in the way.

But if he remembered the words, and he really focused on them, he could hear his mother's voice singing them to him. Like she had when he was a child. He missed her.

That song had always brought him a feeling of well being. Whenever he had been sick, or frightened, she had sung that song to him. It had always made things better. But as he'd gotten older, and wasn't her 'baby' any more, she'd sung the song less and less. When he'd needed comfort, she and his father had consoled him in other ways, like most parents do as their children grow and mature. Then in one terrible instant they were gone, their lives snuffed out in a fiery explosion. Booster Terrik, a friend of the family and Mirax's father, had taken him in. He had tried his best to guide and support him, and Wedge realized that he had come to think of him as a father figure. But now he was alone, with no one to comfort him anymore.

Months after he'd hunted down and destroyed his parent's killer in a borrowed Headhunter, he lay in his bunk on the _Pulsar Skate_, halfway between wakefulness and sleep, and he'd thought of the song again. Although he was not a great believer in spirits, he had heard his mother's voice singing it to him as clearly as if she'd been right there with him. With the certainty that only a grieving sixteen-year-old boy could have, he knew that it was meant to ease his suffering, and had clung to it for that reason.

Since that time, he'd had the same experience on two other occasions. Once, after the Alliance had made its escape from Hoth, and a raging case of Bilbringi Fever had put him in the medical center with blinding headaches and a dangerously high temperature. Then, again, when he'd been in the bacta tank on _Home One_, after nearly losing his hand and his life when he'd prevented an Imperial message drone from exploding in orbit around the forest moon of Endor.

Now, even at thirty, he needed to hear her comforting voice again. _What are the words? '...Keep you safe from hurt or fear?' That sounds right. And it does hurt... It hurts really bad. Mom?_

"Mom?" He heard his own voice call to her, but it wasn't his mother's compassionate voice that answered.

"No, General Antilles, your mother's not here. Only a mother whose sons you've killed." Tchlinda's tone was cold and brittle, not warm and enticing like it had been at the party the night before. Or afterward when she had tried to seduce him.

_Was that only last night?_ Time and place had become dislocated for him. He tried to look around, but he no longer had the energy to do even that. As another jolt of pain hit him, he had a moment of clarity and memories flooded back to him_. That's right, they've got me strapped down_. _I'm in the interrogation room_.

He could feel where the straps had cut into his wrists and ankles, how the one across his bare chest was so tight that it made it hard to breathe. Rivulets of sweat trickled down his face to sting his eyes. Although he couldn't remember most of it, he assumed he had been there for some time. _I don't remember them asking any questions. I wonder what I've told them? Have I betrayed my friends? Have I broken my oath to the New Republic?_

_Stars and comets up on high, Gently light the night time sky..._

He grimaced as the fire started in his belly and spread in every direction, to his fingertips, to the soles of his bare feet. He banged his head on the back of the chair over and over again, trying to fight it. He gritted his teeth in an effort not to cry out, but the pain forced a strangled moan from him.

_Hush, my darling; rest your head, Snuggled safely in your bed..._

The sound of his suffering brought a smile to Tchlinda's lips. "You are to be congratulated, General. We've been at this for nearly fourteen hours. By now, the average pilot would be begging to tell me every thing he knew."

He clenched his jaw, drawing on reserves of strength he didn't even know he had, just to be able to speak. "Rogue Squadron doesn't...ungh...take the average pilot."

"My, my! Arrogance!" She applauded sarcastically. "You are a challenge." She motioned to a technician out of his view with a casual flick of her fingers. The technician complied and raised the pain intensity level. Wedge's back arched as pain pulsed through his body, stealing his breath and numbing his mind.

_Mommy loves her little boy, Daddy's pride and mother's joy..._

Another groan escaped from him, but it quickly turned into a scream that ripped at his parched throat. After a few long minutes, the pain began to subside.

"Mmmm...Mom?"

Again, Tchlinda smiled. "I've always been fascinated by the fact that men will call for their mothers in situations like this, when their weakness takes hold. Like pathetic children." She leaned closer to Wedge and shook him so that he would look at her. His brown eyes opened and locked on to her. "Tell me, General, do you suppose that my sons were so weak that at the moment of their deaths, they called for me?"

Wedge struggled to concentrate on the right words. To his dismay, he discovered that he'd almost forgotten how to speak. He struggled to get his traitorous tongue to cooperate. "I...I hope so."

"What? Why would you hope so?" The surprise in her voice was obvious, but there was also an underlying tone of anger at the suggestion of weakness in her sons.

"B-because, if they did...it would mean...th-that...they loved you enough...to call for you...when they hurt...or were af-afraid, and really needed your comforting." He sagged back into the chair, the effort of his answer having exhausted him. His head lolled to one side, sweat sticking his hair to his face.

She stared at him, taken aback by his words. Finally she spoke, leaning close to his ear to whisper. "Eloquently put, General Antilles. But, since I was unable to comfort them at that moment, the least I can do is punish the man who murdered them." She turned to the technician again.

Agony pulsed through Wedge's body in waves, drowning him. He wanted so much not to give her the satisfaction of hearing him scream out, especially since that seemed to be what she wanted the most. He couldn't remember her having asked him any questions. She just seemed to want to make him suffer.

And suffering he was. He was not sure how they were doing it, but one minute his body burned, the next there was intense cold, like the frozen vacuum of space. At first it had been bearable, the concoction that Heblon had given him seeming to dull the pain. But that had worn off hours before. Again and again the pain came. There never seemed to be an end to it. Always the pain...

_So I'll hold my young one near, To keep you safe from hurt and fear..._

His mother's voice came through the haze, wrapping him in the same comfort that it always had, and even the sound of his own screams couldn't drown it out.

* * * * * * *

Off duty and dressed in civilian clothes, Tonar Heblon looked like any one of the hundreds of other crewmen making their way through the crowded streets of Jimmarra, the capitol city of Arramsetti III. Carrying Wedge's small dufflebag over one shoulder, he turned down a small side street. He had a definite destination and purpose in mind, and it was one that he still wasn't sure why he'd chosen.

He had been up most of the night, sitting in his small room in the Moff's palace. He couldn't have slept anyway, knowing what they were probably going to do to Antilles. Heblon had never met anyone like him before, either during his time as a doctor in the Catatonia Colony or after he had joined the Empire. And the effect that the pilot was having on him disturbed him.

When he allowed himself to think about it, Heblon knew he had serious doubts about his role in the Imperial Navy. He had been a healer for most of his life, and now all he did was to help destroy life. Now meeting and getting to know Antilles had only reinforced his reservations.

So he made a decision and then acted on it. In the three years that he had served aboard the _Querulous_, he had heard some rumors about an underground rebellion on Arramsetti III. Nothing substantial, but enough to convince him that maybe it did exist. Although he had never before thought of contacting them, he had managed, by spending some credits here and there, to find out where to go to get some information to them. He knew it would be difficult to get them to believe him, but he had to try.

Coming to the end of another dingy side street, Heblon spotted the place he'd been looking for. He stepped over to the alley on the left of the building, and hid his bag behind a refuse container. He then approached the entrance to the Dancing Droid.

It was a typical spaceport cantina. The atmosphere was smoky and humid, with customers from every corner of the galaxy filling the small cantina with the sights, smells, and sound peculiar to their home worlds. Although Heblon had never been in this particular cantina before, it had a familiar feel for him, since he'd been in others just like it. On how many worlds, and how many times before? He had lost track.

He entered the cantina and worked his way through the mass of bodies, shouldering up to the bar in between a huge, dark, and bearded human male, and a shorter Twi'lek male. The place was busy enough that it took the bartender a few minutes to notice him.

"What'll it be?" The auburn haired woman smiled pleasantly.

"A Lomin Ale...and maybe some information?" He scolded himself for the nervousness he was feeling. He had never done this kind of thing before and he felt extremely unsure of himself.

The bartender looked at him and then looked around apprehensively. "Look, we got liquor, we got food, and we got pleasure rooms upstairs, but information is too dangerous to deal in." She turned aside, and in a moment, handed Heblon his mug of ale.

Heblon dropped some credits on the bar for the drink. When the bartender reached for the money, he stayed her hand, slipping some more credits under her palm as he did. Without missing a beat, the money disappeared under the bar and the woman smiled. "What kind of information?" she asked in a conspiratorial whisper.

"I need to find some of the local Alliance underground. And don't bother denying that they are here." Heblon kept his voice low. "I happen to know better."

"I could do that, but I'm afraid I can't help you. They don't trust me. I doubt that I could get them to tell me what time it is, much less how to get in touch with them. Sorry." She turned and started to move on to another customer, but he took hold of her wrist.

"Look, it's really important. It could mean a man's life."

The woman studied him, then shook her head. "Can't help you."

Heblon thumped his fist on the bar in frustration. "Listen to me. I know that they're active on this planet, and this cantina is one of their contact points. I just can't afford to attract too much attention about this." She managed to free herself from his grip and walked away. He continued to drink his ale in silence, then turned to go. Go where, he was not sure.

He made his way back outside and looked around. He spotted a darkened corner where he could watch the bar without being seen and headed in that direction. But he didn't get very far. Suddenly the two customers he'd stood between at the bar flanked him on both sides.

"Hey, pal. Wait for us." The big human draped a friendly arm over his shoulder, and before Heblon could react, he felt something hard being pressed against his side. There was a sharp pain in his rib cage, accompanied by a tell-tail blue flash. He had never been hit with a weapon on stun before, and he wished that he had avoided the experience a little longer.

As every nerve in his body fired at once, he felt brief pain, then numbness. He remained conscious just long enough to know that maybe this time he had gotten into something that he shouldn't have. Darkness nibbled at the edge of his sight, and his last thought was of Wedge, and who would be left to help either of them. 


	11. Chapter 11

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**11**

Once again on the bridge of the _Querulous_, Admiral Turpa paced the walkway overlooking the crew pit. He was not in the best of moods and every one of the bridge crew did their best to avoid drawing his attention.

Tchlinda had been devoting all of her attention to Antilles for the last day, excluding all else. _Excluding me!_ Turpa looked closely at the reflection of himself in the transparisteel of the window. Tall and lean, with jet black hair and dark, intense eyes, he was considered handsome by many women. But he knew that time was catching up with him. Already in his forty-second year, he noticed that lines had begun to appear around his eyes, and a hint of gray was beginning to creep into his hair. And that hurt his vanity.

Technically, he was in command of his own Star Destroyer, as well as Imperial ground forces of the planet Arramsetti III. But the entire system was under the control of Moff Lathel Tchlinda and she often took great pleasure in overruling him. Although he was her personal adviser, he was more commonly known as her lover, and that did not mean much in the eyes of those who held power in the Empire.

Tchlinda herself was a woman who was attracted by strength and power. He was beginning to fear that if he continued to show his age and could not prove his value, she would find that she no longer had any use for him and would discard him on a whim.

And now he had Antilles to contend with. He had seen Tchlinda's obvious attraction to him and now she was wasting prolonged amounts of time on him. He knew that she would kill him sooner or later, but was afraid that her lust for him would make it all too clear that she needed someone younger than Turpa. And he hated himself for feeling threatened by Antilles.

The communications officer, despite his fear of intruding on Turpa's thoughts, spoke up. "Admiral, there is an incoming message from the planet. From Moff Tchlinda."

He smiled. It was about time that she returned her attention to him. "Put it through to my command chair, Ensign."

"Yes, sir."

Turpa made his way to his seat of command, which sat at the far end of the bridge. He sat just as the small hologram of Tchlinda appeared. "Osiel, I have some news from Thyferra. It appears that Rogue Squadron has been there looking for clues to the location of their missing General. Now they are searching for him near the region where we ambushed him. I want you to take the _Querulous_ and destroy them once and for all. I will not have them stumble across our location and spoil the ceremony."

"It will be a pleasure, your Excellency. Do we know what kind of support they have?"

"From what I have been able to learn from our contact there, there are only the twelve assorted X-wings and one Lambda class shuttle. There was also some mention of an aging freighter belonging to a smuggler. I am sure that will not cause you any problems, will it?"

"Of course not, your Excellency. We will be under way within the hour."

"Do not fail me, Osiel." A tone of pure malevolence radiated through her voice. "I will be _very_ unhappy should they survive."

"I understand. We will be victorious. Today Rogue Squadron's legendary luck is about to run out."

* * * * * * *

Heblon opened his eyes and closed them immediately. A bright light was aimed directly at his face and blinded him momentarily. His eyes began to water and he blinked the tears away. He slowly opened his eyes again, taking care to look down as he did, and they slowly adjusted to the glare.

Wherever he was, the rest of the room was in complete darkness. He sat in a heavy wooden chair, his hands and feet bound tightly to the arms and legs. The room was very quiet, but he sensed others nearby.

A woman's voice came out of the dark, from behind him, and startled him enough to make him jump. "All right, Imp. Who are you, and what was is it you wanted to see us about?"

"My name's Lieutenant Tonar Heblon from the _Querulous_, and I've got some information you might be interested in."

"Oh, really. What kind of information?" Her voice was making its way around the room, to a point where she must have been standing somewhere in front of him.

"About a prisoner that Moff Tchlinda is holding. A Rebel prisoner."

"I'll just bet. And while we're having this little chat, how many of your buddies are moving into position to try and take us down?"

"I came alone. I don't think that Tchlinda or Turpa even know about your being on the planet. I only found out by knowing who to ask, and I haven't told anyone."

"And why would you do that?" A deeper, male voice rumbled the question. It sounded like the voice of the big man who had stunned him in the street. "You're a loyal Imperial, a son of the Empire."

"Let's just say I was keeping an option open." He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. As much as he could, anyway.

"Okay. Let's just say that. And let's pretend that we believe you. Now, who is this prisoner we'll be so interested in?"

"Wedge Antilles."

There was a sharp intake of breath followed by a long silence. Then he heard the two voices conferring softly. Although he was unable to make out all of the words, he got the gist of their conversation.

"...didn't know he was missing," he heard the woman's voice say.

"...have to check on it," the man replied.

"Have to save...can't let them..."

"...how you feel...can't...involved....orders..."

"...have to...chance."

There was another moment of silence before the woman returned her attention to Heblon. "They've got Antilles, huh? I know Wedge Antilles, I've flown with him." A short pause. "Prove it."

Heblon tried to look out beyond the circle of light in which he sat, but couldn't make anything out. "Behind the refuse bin outside the cantina I was in, there's a bag. The proof is in there." He heard a murmur and a shuffle of feet somewhere beyond the woman's voice. He guessed she had sent someone out for the bag.

"While we wait for your proof, Imp, I want some more details," the woman demanded. "Like why you came here? He's just one more piece of 'Rebel Scum' to your kind. Why'd you bother?" The woman's voice was hard, daring him to lie to her.

"I'm not really sure why. And even if I could explain it to you, I'm sure you wouldn't believe me." He sighed. "It's just...lately I've found it harder and harder to justify what the Empire orders me to do. The only things they recognize are cruelty and brutality. When they captured Antilles, and after being around him, I realized that he stands for everything that the Empire isn't. It's...he's..."

"Honorable," the woman said quietly.

"Yeah." He turned the word over in his mind. "That's it. He's honorable. He's the first really honorable man I've come across in a long time. Knowing what Tchlinda and Turpa have planned for him turned my stomach. That's why I'm here."

From somewhere in the darkness, Heblon heard someone enter the room. If it was the person the woman had sent out for the bag, then he figured he was most likely back in the cantina.

Suddenly the lights in the room came on, and he had to close his eyes again. When he opened them, the black man stood in front of him, and next to him stood the female bartender from the cantina. She was no longer in the suggestively low cut shirt and tight pants of the bar. She was all business in a black flightsuit, covered with pockets that could hide enough weapons to arm a small invasion force. Several others stood around the room as well. All of them were heavily armed.

Someone handed her the bag he had hidden, and she opened it up. Reaching in, she pulled out Wedge's flightsuit. She looked at the five pips representing his rank and visibly swallowed when she saw blood on the front of it. Deeper in the bag, she found Wedge's military ID.

She handed it to the big man beside her, who studied it carefully, anger building on his face. Heblon could see that Wedge was a good friend of theirs, and the thought of his being in Tchlinda's hands was not a pleasant one.

"How'd that get there?" The man pointed to the blood partially obscuring the Rogue Squadron patch on the orange garment that the woman was still holding.

"Turpa worked him over on the _Querulous_ before delivering him to the Moff."

"What do they want him for? Why didn't they kill him outright?" the woman asked.

"Because for now they want him kept alive. This is strictly a case of revenge for Tchlinda. Her sons were on the Death Star at Endor and she's making Antilles pay for killing them...and she's enjoying every minute of it."

"What kind of shape is he in?"

Heblon sighed heavily and shook his head. "Not good. He was taken to the interrogation room about ten hours ago and hadn't been returned to his cell before I decided to leave. When there was no sign of him, I managed to get to the interrogation chamber to check in on him. He was still strapped to the chair, was semi-conscious, and repeating the same words over and over again. Between the drugs and the chair, he probably couldn't recognize his own mother at this point."

"How much time do you think he has?" she asked.

"Tchlinda plans to dedicate the memorial she's building to her sons in a little over three days. I know that Antilles is to be part of the ceremony, so they won't kill him before then. If I know her, she'll torture him to the brink of death, have me make sure he stays healthy enough, then start the whole process over again. She _will_ break him. I just hope that by the time you can get to him he will still be the same man he was."

The woman's fists clenched and the muscles in her jaws bunched. "She won't get away with this. I'm going to see to that personally." She paced the room two or three times, then stopped in front of Heblon. "How do you feel about working for us? Are you willing to change sides?"

"I thought I already had."

"I think so, too. I'm Elscol Loro, formerly of Rogue Squadron." She pointed to the huge bearded man, who leaned over to cut the ropes holding Heblon in the chair. "This is Sixtus Quinn, formerly of the Imperial Special Forces."

"It's a pleasure. Do you have a plan?"

"First, we get you back where you belong, so you can work from the inside. Then we contact Rogue Squadron. I imagine Wedge's disappearance has made them all a bit hostile, and I would like to point that hostility in Tchlinda's direction if I can. They'll be just what we need for what I have in mind."

Heblon shook his head in disbelief. "You're ready to trust me after speaking to me for five minutes?"

"Welcome to the underground rebellion, Heblon. We take who and what we can get. And we have to start somewhere. Besides, if you turn out to be a traitor, you'll be dead before you know what hit you. That's a promise."

Heblon knew that she was not kidding. He marveled at how well respected Wedge was and how many people were willing to risk their own lives to save his. He was startled by the fact that he included himself among them.

_And when did you start thinking of him as Wedge?_ He sighed_. Damn, he's doing it to me again._

* * * * * * *

Tycho watched readings on his monitors scroll endlessly by and frowned in frustration. The lead about Marth hadn't resulted in anything useful. The bartender had simply been hired to act as a go-between and had no idea who or where the 'client' was. That meant that the Rogues were back to square one in their search for Wedge. They at least knew _how_ Wedge had been ambushed, but still had no idea _where_ or _why_.

In desperation, they returned to their search grid in the Llessgha System, in hopes of finding something, anything that would give them an idea of where Wedge had been taken. But so far they had come up with nothing. Not even debris to suggest that the ambush had even taken place.

On their return from Thyferra, Tycho and his group had run a parallel course to Wes, who had taken his share of the Rogues back to eat, rest, and refuel. But they were back now and the squadron was at one over full strength. A total of thirteen X-wings hung in space, including Bror in his own ship. There was also Nawara in the _Stardust_ and Mirax and Ajene in the _Skate_, all of them doing sensor sweeps in the middle of nowhere for a man they knew was no longer there.

The only good news they had received was that Bror had managed to convince his people to release two ships to help in the search. At any time two MC-65-B Mon Calamari Star Cruisers would be joining them. Although not nearly as big as the MC-80, the same model as Admiral Ackbar's _Home One_, they would be of great use to them. Not only would their sensors be able to pick up more detail, it meant that the group wouldn't have to head for Thyferra every time they needed to sleep or refuel. The cruisers had small hangers that, between the two ships, would just be able to squeeze in the thirteen fighters. The _Skate_ and _Stardust_ would be able to dock with either of the ships as well.

Tycho had been surprised that Thyferra would offer two of their largest ships to them. When he asked Bror how he had managed to convince his people to send the two ships, he answered with an uncharacteristic shrug. "It was easy. Wedge helped to liberate our planet from Ysanne Isard. Every man, woman, and child owes him a debt." Tycho never ceased to be amazed at how the people of the New Republic rallied to help Wedge.

Just as he was about to yawn with boredom, there was a blur of motion to Tycho's right, and his R-5 unit hooted frantically at him. He expected the outlines of the two Mon Cal cruisers to appear from hyperspace. But the shape that came into focus was not what he wanted to see at all. Suddenly he was alert, his mind racing.

"Rogue Leader to Group. Victory Class Star Destroyer has just arrived, and she does _not_ look friendly. Come about to heading two zero mark three five and prepare to make an emergency jump back towards Thyferra."

There was a chorus of confirmations that his order had been received, and he saw the tiny dots of other X-wings come about to match his heading.

"Lead, Six. We have about four squadrons of TIEs, Interceptors and Fighters, pouring out of the Destroyer. She's reading as the _Querulous._" Gavin's voice came through clear and calm.

"Rogue Leader, Nine here. There is no way we can jump before those fighters catch us. And the _Querulous_ is maneuvering right into the direct path back to Thyferra."

"I see it, Nine. Stand by." Tycho weighed their options, but none of them seemed terribly appealing, and he dismissed outright all but two of them. They could make a blind jump to lightspeed, which in many cases proved to be deadly. They could fly right through a star or a planet, and that would kill them for sure. With _Querulous_ in the way, a jump directly to Thyferra was out of the question. The only other option was to turn and fight. As much as the odds of thirteen X-wings against forty-eight TIEs and a Star Destroyer appalled him, it seemed to be the best option.

"Okay, gang, we're going after the TIEs. Break by wing-pairs and shoot at anything that shoots at you. But stay as far from the Destroyer as you can. Rogue Control, I want you to plot a course around _Querulous_ and back to Thyferra, then transmit it to the group. _Skate_, get in behind the _Stardust _and stay there."

Mirax's voice crackled across the Rogue frequency. "No way, Lead. We're helping where we can."

"_Skate_, that was not a request. It's an order."

"Rogue Leader, I don't respond well to orders. Get to work, Tycho, and let me worry about the _Skate_."

Tycho sighed. He wondered briefly if she spoke to Corran the same way. "All right, people, let's show these Imps that they should know better than to corner Rogue Squadron!"


	12. Chapter 12

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**12**

The buzzing of the intercom startled General Airen Cracken, as it always did. It was one of the few things that could surprise him these days.

"Sir, Admiral Ackbar just called. He would like to know if you could spare a few minutes for him. He said it was rather urgent. About what you talked about two days ago?"

The Director of Intelligence was out of his chair and halfway across his office before his aide had finished his last sentence. He swept through the waiting room, and the young man just looked at him as he passed. He had been with the General long enough now that he was used to the him arriving and leaving unexpectedly.

"Tell the Admiral that I'm on my way to his office."

He was out the door and around the corner before the young man could reply.

When Cracken reached Admiral Ackbar's office, his aide didn't even try to stop him as he passed through the anteroom. He walked into the office and closed the door behind him. Ackbar looked up from his datapad and motioned him to a chair with a webbed hand.

"Tell me they've found him," Cracken said as he sat down.

"Not yet, but I have just had a message routed through my office that tells us where he is, at least. Have you seen it yet?"

Cracken tried to keep his expression neutral. It had been several hours since he had received a message from Elscol Loro. He had made some inquiries and then contacted her directly with information and instructions. As per his orders, she had re-recorded a message for Rogue Squadron and sent it through regular channels as a high priority signal. Cracken hoped it was this message that Ackbar had intercepted. "Admiral, contrary to popular belief, I do not see every message that comes into Coruscant. So where is he?"

"He was ambushed and is being held by Moff Lathel Tchlinda on Arramsetti III. I am sure that name means something to you."

"Yes, it most certainly does. I have people working with the underground Rebellion there to try and topple what's left of the Imperial occupation force in that system."

"Would one of those people be Elscol Loro?"

Cracken tried his hardest to look exasperated. "I can't confirm that and you know better than to ask, Admiral."

"The only reason I ask is because the message that I have is from her. She is the one that found General Antilles."

"There is no controlling that woman! She finds her way into everything." Cracken pounded his fist on the arm of his chair, surprised at the fact that he was actually beginning to feel annoyed.

"In my experience, General, once a Rogue, always a Rogue. You have to let them do what they do. Restrict them and you risk dooming them to failure."

Cracken smiled. He had often heard Ackbar speak of Rogue Squadron and their unconventional strategies. But as he said, it usually worked out for the best. If it wasn't for their unorthodox thinking, they would not be sitting on the former Imperial Center having their conversation. "So, now that we know where he is, what do we do? Are you planning to send in a fleet to take over the planet?"

"You know as well as I do that the Council will not sanction that kind of action. They will not take the risk of sending a fleet out there and wasting precious resources that you know we can't spare. Should the attempt fail, many questions will be raised in the council, and no one wants to take the blame."

"But I can make sure that the message from Loro will reach Colonel Celchu and Rogue Squadron. They will be able take care of the rest. I know that Mirax Terrik Horn has already sent for her father and the _Errant Venture_. Also, the Thyferran government has given over to Major Bror Jace the use of two Mon Calamari Star Cruisers. As far as I can tell, without one scrap of help from us, Colonel Celchu has managed to build a force more than capable of taking on one single Victory Class Star Destroyer."

The General slumped in his chair. He knew that Mirax had sent for her father. Cracken had been trying to keep tabs on Booster Terrik and his ship for years with marginal success. The thought of a smuggler like Terrik running around the galaxy in a Star Destroyer still irritated him. Especially since he was the one that had been forced to give it to him. But at least this time it was being put to good use.

"Admiral, you may not be able to send reinforcements to the Rogues, but I may be able to do something. I have a way of contacting Loro directly. I may be able to find out what her plan is and do what I can to help them. Also, without the knowledge of the Council, I may be able to insert a couple of commandos onto Arramsetti III. They would be able to help the underground from there while the Rogues put whatever plan they have into action.

"Whoever you send would be on their own, General. They would be working outside the New Republic. Who would volunteer for such a mission? Or do you already have someone in mind?"

"I do. I have a few Wraiths sitting around with nothing to do at the moment. I am sure they would be invaluable to the mission. And I know they would love to help."

"My experience with the Wraiths is limited since they were transferred from my command to yours, but as I recall, they are even harder to predict than the Rogues." He opened his mouth wide in the Mon Calamari version of a smile. "That could be a very good thing."

General Cracken smiled as well. He remembered when he had told the then Commander Antilles that Wraith Squadron was going to be transferred from Starfighter Command to Intelligence. The younger man had given him the crooked grin that all Corellian men seemed to learn at birth. "They may take a little getting used to, General. You can give the Wraiths a simple problem to solve, and they take the most roundabout route to solve it. But they do it with spectacular results. Even I can never tell what they are going to do next."

Now part of the group that Wedge Antilles had founded would come to his rescue.

"Yes, it could be a very good thing. I can't spare all of them, of course, but the two I can send are two of the best. You remember Face Loran and Kell Tainer?

"They are hard to forget."

"Well, I'm going to set them loose on Arramsetti III and see what havoc they can cause."

"And I am going to pretend that I didn't hear you say that so I can truthfully tell your court martial tribunal that I had no idea what you were up to."

"That sounds like a fair deal." Cracken stood and offered his hand to the Mon Calamari Admiral. "I know that we haven't always seen eye to eye, Ackbar, but I'm glad you came to me with this."

"It was the least I could do for General Antilles. With you and Rogue Squadron working to rescue him, the odds of his survival just increased. You will keep me updated, General?"

"Are you sure you want me to?"

"You have a point there. I will leave it in your hands, then."

"Thank you, Admiral." Cracken stood, offered the Admiral a brief salute, and left his office.

  
  



	13. Chapter 13

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**13**

Corran brought his X-wing around to face the wave of TIE Fighters and Interceptors heading his way. Ooryl was tucked in right behind him as always.

The eyeballs and squints were coming straight for them, reassured no doubt by their nearly four-to-one advantage. He flicked his comm unit over to the frequency he shared with the Rogues in the Flight under his command. "Three Flight, we'll go head to head with them and take out as many as we can with torps then lasers. Then we'll double back and pick on whoever is closest. Check in."

"Eleven here. Is that before or after _they_ pick on _us, _Nine?"

Corran shook his head at Hobbie's pessimism. _Some things never change._

"Nine, Twelve. We're with you." Wes was unusually solemn, but determined.

"You with me, Ten?" Corran asked, knowing the answer before it was given.

"I'm your wing, Nine."

Corran had to smile. No matter what his plan, whether sane or not, Ooryl usually came back with a similar response. It was reassuring in a strange way.

"Whistler, I want you to keep the sensors locked only on targets within firing range. I don't need to see all of the TIEs out there, only the ones that can shoot back at me." His R-2 unit beeped an acknowledgment and his main screen shifted from the forty-eight inbound TIEs to about twelve, with a countdown in the lower corner. Twenty seconds until he was within his two kilometer maximum firing range. "Okay, Three Flight. Here we go."

Ten seconds before the counter reached zero, the TIEs began firing. Corran held his fire as long as possible, waiting until his targets were within optimum firing range. His shields sparked and spluttered with energy as some of the stray laser fire connected with them.

Corran's heads-up display flickered red and Whistler gave him a constant tone as he got a solid torpedo lock on the lead TIE. He fired a single proton torpedo at it, then switched to lasers and shot at anything that moved. There was a blue flash as Ooryl fired a missile as well. Two other azure trails, from Wes and Hobbie, streaked by a mere second later.

Suddenly they were through the wall of fighters and Corran made a hard turn to port, swooping around to fall in behind the line of TIEs. Numbers scrolled across his screen as Whistler updated the enemies strength. He noted that the TIEs had fallen from forty-eight to thirty-eight, but the Rogues were still at full force. _Down to three-to-one. Not bad._

Whistler whistled to point out that Corran had destroyed two TIEs while Ooryl had gotten one with his missile. Wes and Hobbie also had a kill each. But Tycho had taken out three squints already. _He's flying like a man with a score to settle._

Corran also saw that Bror Jace had two confirmed kills. Corran felt some of their old competitiveness surface, but he tried to push it aside. _Trying to out fly Bror now will most likely get me killed. But good to know he hasn't lost his touch. Maybe we'll live through this after all._

Corran completed his one hundred and eighty-degree turn and fell in behind the eyeball he had spotted. Ooryl tucked his ship in neatly behind him and to starboard. "Ten, watch my back."

There was a double click on the comm to let him know that Ooryl had received the order and would comply. The TIE Corran followed spiraled off to his left in an attempt to evade him, but he kept on its tail. He switched back to torpedoes to try and get a lock on him, and his HUD twinkled from green to yellow. But try as he might, he wasn't able to get a solid lock.

"Ten, I'm going to try to maneuver him to port. When I do, see if you can get him."

"I copy, Nine."

Corran switched back to lasers and set them to single fire. His shots would be less powerful, but his lasers could cycle much faster. He shot to the right of the TIE, driving him to port, and Ooryl appeared beneath Corran's ship. The Gand sent scarlet lasers through the ball cockpit of the TIE Fighter, a surgical strike that left most of the ship intact, but spiraling out of control deeper into space.

"Good shot, Ten. Scratch one more eyeball." Ooryl moved out ahead of Corran, turning to come in behind a TIE on Inyri's tail. "I'm your wing, Ten."

The TIE fighter couldn't have seen Corran's and Ooryl's approach since it kept after Inyri. She sideslipped and dove to avoid its fire. Corran assumed that the pilot could not be too experienced or he would have known to watch for other fighters. Tunnel vision was a common problem in green pilots. They would become so focused on their target that they would forget everything else around them. The TIE pilot also did not have a wingman to protect his back. _Not surprising, since the TIEs are dropping like slime from a Hutt._

Ooryl fell in behind and just below the TIE fighter, Corran hanging off his port S-foil. Ooryl held his fire until he had a good shot lined up, and the eyeball didn't even know what hit him. The Gand's quad-linked lasers burned through the ball cockpit, and the fighter erupted into a sphere of incandescent light.

"Good shooting as always, Ten."

"Thanks, Eight." Inyri headed off to port to rejoin Myn Donos, who had just vaped his own TIE.

Ooryl headed to starboard and Corran kept with him. He looked at his scope and found that they were pretty much out on their own, at least several kilometers from the heart of the battle. The rest of Three Flight was well out of Corran's visual range. "Whistler, how're we doing?"

Just as Whistler trilled a response, Corran saw the blue symbol representing Rogue Eleven wink out on his tactical screen.

In the blink of an eye, Corran knew that Hobbie was gone.

* * * * * * * *

Heblon opened the cell door and stood aside as the interrogation technicians, followed by two stormtroopers, walked in and dumped their burden unceremoniously on the bunk. The shortest technician turned to face him. "Moff Tchlinda wants him kept alive. She will be working on him again tomorrow." He turned on his heel and left Heblon standing in the cell with the battered figure.

Heblon stuck his head out into the hall and watched the technicians round the corner. He nodded to the stormtroopers on either side of the door, then closed it. He removed his uniform jacket and cap and quietly moved towards the bunk.

"Seems like I'm destined to always be putting you back together, Antilles. But I think that it's going to take more than a little bacta to do the job this time."

Thankfully Wedge was unconscious. There were burn marks and bruises all over his body from the interrogation chair and scanner grid. His wrists were raw and bleeding from the straps that had held him in place while he screamed. His breath came in rasping short bursts, and Heblon knew that if Moff Tchlinda had worked on him for much longer, he would probably be dead.

Suddenly he stirred, his eyelids flickering, then opening slightly. A low moan escaped from him. Heblon gently lifted him to a 45-degree angle and placed a cup of water to his lips. He poured some of the liquid into Wedge's mouth, stopping only when he started to cough and splutter.

He lay him back down on the bunk and covered him with a blanket. Wedge shuddered, then slowly curled up into an approximation of a ball, lying on his right side. He whimpered softly, rocking a little to comfort himself.

"Antilles?" Heblon called softly, but Wedge either ignored him or couldn't hear him.

_Damn it, what is it about this man that makes me want to help him? I've ruined my career, not to mention I'll be killed if I'm caught. But still I help him every time. I have to be out of what's left of my mind._

"Antilles? _Antilles_!"

He stirred again, and a pair of bloodshot brown eyes looked up at Heblon, and his eyes said it all. Wedge was in terrible pain; more pain than anyone should have to suffer. But he could still manage a weak smile for the man that had been the only one to help him.

"Heblon?" He coughed and his words were barely audible. Heblon had to lean in close to hear the rest. "Heblon, you look terrible."

"I wish I had a mirror to show you how _you_ look, Antilles," he chuckled.

There was a short laugh that produced a coughing fit. It took Wedge a few minutes to recover, and he was so still that Heblon thought that maybe he had lost consciousness again. But he finally looked up at him and whispered something. He leaned close again to try to hear what the pilot was saying.

"Don't you think it was about time you called me Wedge?"

Heblon made a face. "Don't push your luck."

Wedge smiled, then went limp again.

* * * * * * * *

The two men entered General Cracken's office and stood at attention. He let them stand there for a moment before waiving them to over to the chairs in front of his desk, all without looking up. "Have a seat, gentlemen."

They each took a seat and Cracken finally looked up from his datapad. "I have a mission for the two of you," he began without preamble. "You will be going to a planet called Arramsetti III. Up until ten standard years ago it was a neutral world. Now it is occupied by the Empire and commanded by Moff Lathel Tchlinda. You are going to help Elscol Loro upset her administration."

Captain Garik "Face" Loran was the first to speak. He was a handsome man, even more so since he had the surgery to remove the scar that had marred his face from left cheek to right forehead. The scar had helped contribute to his nickname, but Face was also a master at disguise and could assume almost any character. Sometimes Cracken wondered who the real Face was. "Sir, if you want us to help topple a government, don't you think sending in our entire group would be a better idea?"

"Under normal circumstances I would say you were right. But this is a little different. You aren't under orders this time. You're volunteering for a dangerous mission. You will have virtually no support from Intelligence and very little from Starfighter Command. You'll have to make it on your own."

Lieutenant Kell Tainer shifted in his seat. At almost two meters tall, Kell was one of the tallest pilots that Cracken had ever seen. The General still wasn't sure how he got his athletic frame into the cockpit of his X-wing. But his size was an asset that he used for his other specialty, hand to hand combat. He also liked to blow things up, which was advantageous in certain situations. At the moment, though, he looked confused.

He squinted his pale blue eyes before he spoke. "If I understand this correctly, General, you are ordering us to go on a mission, voluntarily, to a planet that no one has ever heard off to take out one single Moff?"

"That about sums it up, Lieutenant."

"Can I ask why? There has to be something more than that."

"There is. Moff Tchlinda is holding General Wedge Antilles prisoner and plans to kill him in two days."

The two operatives looked at one another. They had served under Wedge for over a year and felt a loyalty to him that Cracken hoped would motivate them to do whatever was needed to free him.

"I think it is safe to say that Kell and I will go, General. Just tell us where and how."

"I thought you might change your point of view when I told you about Antilles." Cracken leaned forward, his elbows resting on his desk. "Here is how this is going to work. I have managed to make arrangements for both of you to get onto the planet in the next twenty-four hours. You are going by way of a transport ship leaving here in two hours. I'll be giving you your entry IDs and cover stories. You will be met on the planet by Elscol Loro, an agent working for me, and she will give you the rest of the plan. It is something that she has worked up and that I am not privy to at this time."

Cracken reached into a drawer of his desk and pulled out two semi-transparent envelopes. He lay them on his desk in front of him, face down. "One more thing. Loro is under deep cover and is taking a great risk by meeting the two of you. She may not look at all like her holo. She, however, knows what the two of you look like and what your cover identities will be. She will approach you and identify herself with a phrase that is included in your data."

Cracken slid the two small envelopes over his desk towards the two men. Face took both of them and handed the one marked 'Wraith Five' to Kell, keeping 'Wraith Leader' for himself.

"You are under direct orders not to speak to anyone about this mission, including members of your own group. It has _not_ been sanctioned by the council, and there is only one other person besides myself that knows where you are going. Everyone else will believe that you are off on a reconnaissance mission. It is not widely known that General Antilles is missing and I want it to stay that way. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," they responded almost simultaneously.

"Good. All of the information you will need is in those packages. You leave in two hours. Questions?"

The two men remained silent.

"Get going." 


	14. Chapter 14

**14**

Tycho fell in directly behind an Interceptor, his HUD wavering as it searched for a lock. He got a steady tone from Marca, so he squeezed the trigger, letting go twin torpedoes.

The missiles shot through the space between Tycho and the TIE in the blink of an eye, hulling the smaller craft. There was no explosion to mark the passing of the other pilot, but Tycho knew he was dead.

As he swung around and headed back towards the dogfight, he took a moment to check his tactical board, just in time to see Rogue Eleven disappear from the screen. But even before he could register the fact that Hobbie had ceased to exist, he heard Wes screaming over the comm, his panic audible through the heavy static.

"Eleven is hit! Eleven is hit!"

"How bad is it, Twelve?" Tycho tried to be calm and reassuring, hoping that maybe Hobbie was still in one piece.

There was a pause before Wes responded. Tycho glanced at his tactical screen to locate Wes, and then looked in the direction he knew him to be. He could see his fighter in the distance, out beyond the main area of fighting. Even before Tycho could contact him, he saw Nawara in the _Stardust_ head out toward Wes at top speed.

"His canopy is gone, Lead, as well as both port S-foils and a fair piece of his rear fuselage. What's left of his ship is disintegrating as we speak. I can't see if Hobbie's still in there or not. I'm going to try and get a closer look."

"Negative, Twelve! There are only a couple of fighters in your vicinity and Rogue Control is on his way. He'll tractor Eleven's ship and try to get him into the shuttle if he can. Form up with Nine and Ten."

"But I have to know if..."

"That's an order, Twelve. Return to your Flight."

As Tycho streaked out towards the area where Wes was, he could see Hobbie's X-wing, or what was left of it, hurtling like a missile out towards the Star Destroyer. He heard Wes calling out to his friend, and the pain in his voice caused a lump to form in Tycho's throat, despite his mounting anger towards him.

"Hobbie, come in. Can you hear me? Hobbie, please answer me!" There was a crackle and Tycho thought he heard a very distant voice. Wes must have heard it as well. "Hobbie, if you can hear me, Nawara's on his way with the shuttle. Just hold on."

As Tycho caught up with Wes, he switched to Three Flight's comm frequency. "Twelve, I ordered you back to your flight. Move it!!" Tycho was somewhat surprised at the amount of anger that seeped into his voice. But Wes had been insubordinate since they had started on the mission to find Wedge, and Tycho was quickly becoming fed up with him.

"I have to find out if he's still in there, Lead, or else there's no point in Control risking his neck to tractor him."

There was a moment of silence between them before Tycho could answer calmly. Finally the anger faded and he resigned himself to the fact that Wes never seemed to follow his orders anymore. "Make it fast, Twelve."

Wes increased his speed until he was going a fraction faster than Hobbie's fighter. He crept forward, avoiding the cloud of debris that surrounded it, and came up beside and just below the cockpit. Tycho imitated his move, coming up on the far side, keeping an eye out for any enemy fighters that might decide to prey on the crippled ship. When it became clear that they were out on their own, Tycho glanced over at Hobbie's fighter. He could see Hobbie was still in his ship, his helmeted head slumped forward. He wasn't moving.

The _Stardust_ approached from the rear of the X-wing, and what was left of the snubfighter slowed as the tractor beam caught it.

"Control, he's still in the cockpit," Wes announced to Nawara.

"I've got him, Twelve. Follow your orders and rejoin Three Flight."

"Thanks, Control."

"Get going, Twelve!" Tycho repeated.

Tycho made a mental note to talk to Wes about this, if and when he was calm enough to do it in a civilized manner. He turned his ship away from Hobbie's fighter and headed back towards the fight. He looked at his sensors and saw that there were still over twenty TIEs buzzing around, with various Rogue's hot on their tails.

En route, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. To his left, the Thyferran Aerospace Defense Corps star cruisers reverted to real space side by side. The ships, the _Paladin_ and the _Provider_ according to his IFF transponder_, _couldn't have been expecting the Star Destroyer to be there, but they came about promptly in an attempt to avoid the range of her guns.

Tycho spoke to his R-5. "Marca, get me the frequency that the Thyferrans are using." The droid tooted once and a button on his comm unit lit up. He punched it. "Rogue Leader to the TADC ships."

"This is Captain Assay of the _Paladin._ We weren't expecting you to have company, Rogue Leader."

"Neither were we. Do you have orders concerning this kind of situation?"

As he asked, he saw the arrow shape of the Star Destroyer plunge towards them at flank speed. Marca scrolled their weapons range on his board. They would come to bear on his group in less than two minutes. The Star Destroyer would open up its turbolasers and ion cannons on them.

"Our orders are pretty vague concerning taking on Star Destroyers, Rogue Leader."

"I don't think you should take them on either, Captain, but that Destroyer and her TIEs will be on you before you can make your jump. I don't think you have a choice but to take the offensive. If you get caught running, we're all in serious trouble."

"I'm forced to agree, Colonel. We'll take the _Querulous_ if you can handle her TIEs."

"Understood. May the Force be with you."

"And you."

* * * * * * * *

One of the Mon Calamari ships charged in towards the Star Destroyer from above, her forward guns blazing, while the othercame up and over from below, trying to helpcollapse the bow shield. Green and red energy crossed the distance between the three ships in sheets.

Admiral Turpa watched in disbelief as the two smaller and more maneuverable cruisers converged on the front of his ship. He knew that they shouldn't be able to do him serious damage, but the X-wings had regrouped and were keeping what was left of his TIEs busy. To make matters worse, a good deal of his guns weren't able to depress far enough to where the ships came at his bow.

"Where did they get those two ships from? They aren't supposed to have any capital support," he mused out loud.

Commander Cright looked up from the damage control station in the crew pit. "Admiral Turpa, we've just lost our bow shield. Atmosphere on decks ten and twelve is venting in the forward compartments. At least twenty-six TIEs have been heavily damaged or destroyed."

Turpa swore and jumped out of his command chair. He paced up and down the walkway a couple of times, trying to order his thoughts. If the battle continued like this, he _would_ lose the _Querulous_, his only ship. After Rogue Squadron destroyed his TIEs, they would come after him with their missiles, tearing his ship apart.

But if he broke off and retreated, Moff Tchlinda would _probably_ kill him for his cowardice. Although the thought of facing her wrath caused icy tendrils of fear to crawl down his spine, he preferred that option to losing his ship. He could probably convince Tchlinda to spare his life, but without the _Querulous _he was nothing.

_Better the Hutt you know..._

The deck plates beneath his feet trembled as the bow of his ship took a pounding from the two star cruisers. "That's it, we're getting out of here. Navigation, plot us a course, any heading. Communications, recall our remaining fighters immediately. Those who aren't in the hanger in five minutes will be left behind."

He paced again on the walkway above the crew, knotting and unknotting his fists. Tchlinda was not going to like this. Not one bit.

* * * * * * * *

On the bridge of the _Paladin_, Captain Assay smiled as he saw the bow shield of the bigger ship flare pink and green, then implode, and a cheer went up throughout the crew stations. Even though the Thyferran ships were much smaller than the _Querulous_, they were managing to cause enough damage to make the Star Destroyer's commander think twice about hanging around. But the _Paladin_ had suffered some damage as well. If not for the element of surprise, Captain Assay was certain that they would have been in serious trouble.

He coughed as smoke from what used to be the main sensor terminal drifted past him. "Fire control, target the unprotected section of the Star Destroyer's bow. Relay that order to the _Provider. _And get a damage control party up here to put out that fire._"_

"Yes, Captain."

A Lieutenant in the blue uniform of the Thyferran Aerospace Defense Force appeared at his elbow. "She's running, sir."

As he spoke, the mighty ship began to pivot, bringing her undamaged shields around to protect her against the two cruisers. The last of her TIE fighters were frantically trying to reach her hangers from several directions.

"She's going to jump as soon as all of the fighters are aboard." Captain Assay turned and began issuing orders. "Pour on all the fire you can. Try to keep her here."

But before the bridge crew could comply, the Star Destroyer was gone, entering the safety of lightspeed.

* * * * * * * *

"All right, people. Check in."

As the Rogues checked in one by one, Tycho was amazed and relieved to find that the only person missing was Hobbie.

"Okay, I want everyone on board the Mon Calsright now. Three Flight and I will head for the _Paladin_. _Skate_, you'll dock with her top-side. One and Two Flights, you head for the _Provider._ Gavin, you're in charge. See if you can get a shuttle from the Captain and report to me on the _Paladin_ as soon as we enter orbit around Thyferra."

As everyone came around to meet with the cruisers, Tycho switched over to Wes's private frequency. "Wes, care to explain to me why you wouldn't follow my order?" He tried to keep his tone reasonable, but he was finding it harder and harder to deal with Wes and his recent string of insubordination in a calm manner. He wondered how Wedge had done it for so many years. His respect for Wedge's leadership skills rose another notch.

There was a pause before Wes replied. "I'm sorry, Tycho. I just couldn't leave him out there on his own." There was another pause. "Have you heard if he's okay?"

"Not yet. I know that he was taken to the _Paladin_, so we should know soon." Tycho took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, stalling for time as he composed himself. "Wes, I want you to understand something. You asked to be transferred to this unit, a unit which for the time being is under my command. The next time I give you an order, I expect you to follow it. Is that clear?"

"Clear, Rogue Leader."

"Good. Now follow your flight back to the _Paladin_."

"Yes, sir."

* * * * * * * *

Wes and Tycho were the last of the Rogues to land in the small, crowded hanger of the _Paladin._ As they set their ships down carefully among the other X-wings already there, Tycho noticed Nawara making his way towards them with a man who could only be Captain Assay. The Captain was tall, at least two meters, and a couple of dozen years older than Tycho. There may have been gray in his hair, but he was so blond it was hard to tell. His blue uniform was spotless despite the recent battle.

Tycho pulled off his helmet, leaving it in his cockpit, and jumped down the rungs of the ladder two at a time. Even so, by the time his boots hit the deck, the squadron's XO and the _Paladin's _Captain were there to meet him.

He opened his mouth to congratulate Captain Assay at driving off the _Querulous,_ but before he could say anything, Wes Janson came around the nose of his fighter at a run. "Is Hobbie okay?" he asked Nawara rather breathlessly.

Nawara managed to stop Wes before his momentum carried him straight into Tycho. "Yes, amazingly enough he's all right. His emergency magcon field held in his oxygen, but he lost consciousness and got pretty cold. He's most likely got a concussion and a touch of hypothermia, so they're dunking him in bacta as we speak. Because of the purity of the bacta the Thyferrans are carrying on board, he should be out in a couple of hours at most. He'll be up and complaining again by morning."

Wes seemed to deflate and he leaned against the front landing strut of Tycho's ship, breathing hard. Tycho laid a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Wes, why don't you head for the medical bay and make sure you're there when they pull him from the tank. I'll contact you if we need you."

He looked at Tycho and smiled. "Thanks, Colonel."

Wes gave a salute that was more a wave and took off at a trot. Once he was gone, Tycho returned his attention to the Thyferran Captain. "I must admit that I'm impressed you were able to drive the _Querulous_ off, Captain. My compliments to your crew and that of the _Provider._"

"I would actually have preferred to keep her here." At Tycho's surprised look, the Captain attempted to explain. "We had a chance at doing her some real damage." He shook his head, then looked over at Tycho. "And I would like to thank you and your pilots for keeping those TIEs off our backs while we did it. You managed to destroy twenty-nine of the forty-eight you faced with only damage to one ship. Those are impressive numbers."

"I'm sure your appearance had a lot to do with our success. That, and their pilots just aren't that good."

"Still, now I understand why Major Jace speaks so well of you."

Tycho smiled. "I had no idea that Bror thought that highly of us."

"You'd probably be surprised."

An Ensign appeared beside the Captain and she cleared her throat to interrupt. "Sir, we have an incoming message for Colonel Celchu. It is coded Priority One and has been routed through Coruscant, then Thyferra, and finally out to us."

"Ensign, show Colonel Celchu to the main briefing room and have the bridge pipe the message down there.

"Yessir." She saluted and turned to lead Tycho away.

* * * * * * * *

On his way out of the hanger bay, Tycho passed Corran and Mirax.

"I have an incoming message from Coruscant, coded Priority One. I would like for both of you to sit in on it with me."

Mirax smiled. "Of course. I love all of this top secret stuff." She grabbed Corran's hand and dragged him along in her wake.

They followed the Ensign down a corridor that led to a turbolift. She punched a button and they headed down several levels at a stomach lurching speed. When the doors opened, they all piled out and across a hallway into a brightly lit conference room. All along one side of the room were transparisteel viewports which offered a spectacular view of the space around the _Paladin._ At the center of the room was a large table with a holo unit in the middle and several chairs around it. The rest of the room was empty.

The Ensign called to the bridge, and Tycho's message was redirected to the holo unit in the table. The blue uniformed officer then turned and left. Tycho readied himself, not sure who or what he was about to see.

_"Hey, Tycho!" _Elscol Loro's voice blared from the comm unit. A one meter tall hologram of her stood at the center of the table, looking at a point just over Tycho's head. _"Have you guys managed to misplace a General? Well, if you have, I may have found him."_

Tycho was beginning to wonder if everyone but him knew where Wedge was.

_"He's in someone else's possession at the moment, a nasty piece of work called Moff Lathel Tchlinda. We were thinking about taking him back from her. You know anybody who'd be interested in helping? Maybe overthrow an Imperial Moff at the same time? Oh, and I was wondering if you had any Star Destroyers hanging around? It would come in real handy for what I have in mind."_

Tycho paused the playback and turned to Mirax. "How does she do that?" Tycho had known Elscol for many years, and he had never ceased to be amazed by her. She always seemed to be two steps ahead of everyone else.

"I don't know." Mirax replied. "There is no way she could know that my father's got the _Errant Venture_ en route to Thyferra, is there?"

Tycho threw his hands into the air, exasperated. "She seems to know everything else." He reached for his earlobe again, but managed to stop himself. "Maybe she assumed that Booster would be in on this by now. She knew how close Wedge was to your family. And she seems to think we'll be able to get one from somewhere. We'll just have to trust her on this, I guess." He hit a button and the message resumed.

_"Your General is being held on the third planet of the Arramsetti System. I need you to meet us at the first planet twenty-four hours from the time stamp on this message. Maybe that will put enough distance between the Imperials and your force to prevent discovery. We'll finalize my plan there."_

Her image paused, and she glanced to one side of the holocam. _"You'll be wondering about your General and how he is doing. I haven't seen him myself, but from the details I have, it doesn't sound good. The Moff that's got him has a very serious case of revenge. They've been pretty rough on him so far, but she wants to use him in some kind of ceremony in two days from the date of this message. So they'll keep him alive until then."_

"That explains it." Corran murmured.

Tycho paused the message again. There was a gloom in Corran's voice that formed an icy lump in his stomach. "What do you mean by that?"

Corran hesitated, looking out the viewport to his left. In the reflection, Tycho could see a number of emotions cross Corran's face. He eventually sighed in resignation and turned to face Tycho and Mirax again.

"Last night, when I finally did get to sleep, I had this dream. I don't usually remember my dreams, but this one stayed with me when I woke up, and I couldn't shake the feeling of dread it left behind. I dreamt of Wedge. I couldn't see anything clearly, but he was suffering. I had hoped that it was just my imagination working overtime, but I think it was something more. I think that somehow, over the thousands of light years separating us, I could feel the pain they were inflicting on him."

His voice was raspy with emotion, and the lump of ice in Tycho's gut turned into a full sized glacier. He knew that Corran was not someone who overdramatized things. If he said that he felt something, Tycho had no choice but to believe him. "We're not going to let him continue to suffer, Corran." He tapped the resume key and Elscol began to speak again.

_"You are probably curious how I know where he is and how you will be able to meet me with a big enough force to take a planet."_ Even through the static of the transmission, Elscol's eyes sparkled with mischief. _"To find that out, you'll have to come and meet me. I'll do everything I can on this end to prepare. See you in twenty-four hours."_

The transmission ended with a pop, and Tycho closed down the holo unit. He thought for a moment, then turned to look at Mirax. "How far out is the _Venture_?"

"We're supposed to rendezvous with her in five hours at Thyferra. From the time of the message, it looks like Elscol sent it over nine hours ago. It'll be tight, but we can be at Arramsetti I just inside her time frame."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's get moving," Corran said.

Tycho headed for the door just ahead of Corran. "I'll go and speak with the Thyferrans. We'll be under way to Thyferra as soon as possible. I just hope I can convince Captain Assay that he wants to come with us to Arramsetti III." 


	15. Chapter 15

****

**15**

Tycho entered the dimly lit medical bay on the _Paladin. _It was a small room, dominated by the eerie green glow of the bacta tank. To the right side of the tank were several hospital style beds, some occupied with injured crewmembers. On a bench to the left of the tank sat Wes Janson, his elbows resting on his knees. He had stripped the top of his flightsuit down to his waist and tied the arms together around his hips. His white sleeveless undershirt took on the green glow of the room and clashed with the orange of his flightsuit.

Tycho figured that Wes had probably been sitting there for the best part of the two hours he had spent speaking with Captain Assay, Bror Jace, and the leaders of Thyferra by holocomm.

_I can't remember the last time I saw Wes this depressed._

He walked over to join the Major. Wes acknowledged him with a nod, but barely took his eyes off Hobbie's floating form in the tank.

"How's he doing?" Tycho asked, sitting on the bench beside him.

"The doctors say that it isn't serious. Some hypothermia, a concussion, and various cuts and bruises. He'll be out in a half hour or so."

There was silence as the two friends stared into the depths of the tank. Tycho leaned back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. A grin blossomed on his face as a thought occurred to him. "How many times do you think we've sat by and watched him float like this?"

Wes turned his head towards Tycho and managed a faint smile in return. Hobbie had amassed quite the reputation for the amount of time he had spent floating in bacta, mostly because no one could crash a ship like he could. At one point, a bacta company had even offered him a great deal of money to endorse their product. "I don't know. Too many times to remember."

"Yeah, and with much worse injuries than this." Tycho looked at the back of Wes's head. "What is it about this time that has got you so worked up?"

Wes sighed and then remained silent for a few moments. He seemed to be ordering his thoughts before answering. "He's my wingman, and I am responsible for his safety. I let a TIE get past me to him. If I had been faster, if I had got the squint, then he would be okay. _Sithspawn_, it's my fault that he's even out here in the first place!"

"I think there is more to it than that, Wes. I think that you are transferring your guilt of Wedge's situation onto Hobbie."

Wes looked over his shoulder at Tycho, confused. "How did you plot that course?"

"Whether we realize it or not, the four of us are very protective of each other, especially Wedge. We've been friends for years, through thick and thin. Wedge has stood by us, me especially, when no one else would. If it wasn't for him, I would have been drummed out of the military and would be piloting a freighter somewhere in the Outer Rim. We have all had our troubles, but we have always been there for each other. This time we weren't there for Wedge, and it is eating away at us. You especially."

"Why me especially?" Wes asked. Tycho noticed he wasn't denying what he had said.

"Because I know that ever since you left the Rogues you feel, deep down, like you've abandoned Wedge. So now you're taking a lot of the blame on yourself for his disappearance. Beating yourself up over Hobbie's injuries is just the latest symptom. Insubordination being another. That isn't like you, Wes." Tycho sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "What you have to understand is that you are not the only friend that Wedge has. And none of us could have prevented this from happening."

Tycho patted him on the back, but Wes just hung his head. "We all want to bring him back safe, Wes. The burden is not yours alone to shoulder. As for Hobbie, he would have come, with or without you."

Wes leaned back against the wall and rubbed at his eyes with his fingers. He sighed again and turned to look at Tycho with dark rimmed eyes. But the troubled look that had been there over the last couple of days seemed to have faded somewhat.

"You're right." He gave Tycho a tight smile. "Hobbie would have come without me and I without him. And as for Wedge, I think I have been blaming myself for what happened to him and the fact that I wasn't there to save him. It's just that he's always seemed to face insurmountable odds and come out the other end in one piece. To have something like this happen seems so...so..."

"Wrong."

"I guess."

Tycho looked towards Hobbie again, struggling with his own guilt over the situation. "Wes, I know where Wedge is."

Startled, Wes spun to face him. "What?! How did you find out? How long have you known?"

"I got a message from Elscol Loro a couple of hours ago. Wedge is being held by a Moff in the Arramsetti System. Once we meet up with the _Errant Venture_ at Thyferra, we'll be on our way to a rendezvous with her. This ship and the _Provider _will be joining us."

Wes sagged with relief, as if the burden of responsibility he had been carrying around for the last few days had been lifted from his shoulders.

Just then the technician on the other side of the bacta tank moved over to them. "It's time for him to come out of the tank."

Wes was on his feet, suddenly full of his old energy. "Well, let's do it, then."

Tycho just shook his head.

* * * * * * * *

By the time the _Querulous_ returned to Arramsetti III, Osiel Turpa still didn't know what he was going to tell Moff Tchlinda. He traveled down to the Moff's Palace in his shuttle, knowing full well that he may not leave the Palace alive. He had seen what Tchlinda was capable of and how she reacted to failure.

One thing that Turpa had decided was that being submissive seemed the best way to go. If Tchlinda could feel that she had power over him, then maybe she would let him live, if only to toy with him. If not, he was sure he had something to offer her that would make him indispensable enough to preserve his life. He always had plans to fall back on in times like these. It was the only reason he had been able to rise to the position that he was in.

But he hated to waste such a large 'favor' this way. He had spent years gathering incriminating facts about all kinds of people in the Empire. He had used such a tactic to acquire the use of the Interdictor Cruiser that had been an integral part of Tchlinda's plan to capture Antilles. And now he might have to use another piece of blackmail material to secure his own life, and for a failure that could not possibly have been his fault.

He entered her chambers, and she was there waiting for him. She stood by her window, looking out onto the monument that she had spent the last six years planning and building. She wore the uniform of an Imperial Moff, tailored to accentuate her pleasing figure.

Turpa fell to his knees at her feet, hanging his head penitently.

"Well? Have you destroyed Rogue Squadron?"

"I have not, your Excellency. When we ambushed them, two Mon Calamari cruisers appeared from lightspeed and drove the _Querulous_ off."

He braced for the blow that he knew would come, but was still knocked to the floor with the impact of her hand on his face. He looked up at her to see her face blood red with fury.

"You let them drive you off with two cruisers? You are in command of a Star Destroyer, not a transport ship. You should have crushed them!"

"I thought it best to withdraw before--"

"You did not _think_ at all! You have let Antilles' comrades escape, and they will undoubtedly know where we are after they identify my ship. You may have ruined months, if not years, of planning!"

"I am sorry, your Excellency."

"I am afraid that is not going to work this time, Osiel. If it were not for the fact that I would not be able to replace you quickly enough, I would have you killed where you stand. I would torture you if I did not think that you would enjoy it." Tchlinda's chin came up as she took on a truly Imperial posture. "Return to the _Querulous_ and remain there. I will have to re-evaluate your worthiness to govern here by my side. I will also have to consider whether to let you participate in the ceremony or not. Think about _that_ as you circle overhead."

Turpa climbed to his feet and wiped the blood from his lip with the back of his hand. He looked her in the eye, no longer wearing an expression of timidity. As he suspected, he would need to sacrifice one of his favors in order to retain his position of power. "Do not send me away, Lathel."

"And why not? You obviously have nothing to offer me."

"Oh, but I do. I can guarantee that your plan to kill Antilles cannot fail."

"How? You had your chance and you let it slip through your fingers."

"I will obtain another Star Destroyer to add to the _Querulous._"

She laughed at him, but he kept his expression solemn. "You are serious? I was not aware that you had a Star Destroyer hidden away."

"I do not. But I know someone who does. And he will give it to me."

She took a step forward and placed her hand on his cheek. "If you can do that for me, Osiel, I may just forgive you for letting Rogue Squadron live."

She kissed him. 


	16. Chapter 16

**16**

Face and Kell managed to make planetfall on Arramsetti III without incident. For an Imperial world, the security did not seem to be tight at all. Perhaps because most everyone on the planet was trying to get off the surface, not onto it.

The two men had traveled together under the cover of out-of-work mechanics. As both of them were rather handsome and distinctive, Face had done his best to make them into the stereotypical mechanic. They had managed to stain their hands with oils and hydraulic fluids, giving them the appearance of having spent a lifetime inside machines. They wore baggy overalls which were as stained, if not more so, than their hands. Kell, the Wraiths part-time mechanic, had gathered up some appropriate tools and materials for them to pack into their bags in case they were searched, and Face had agreed that if they were questioned about anything technical, Kell would do all of the talking.

But they had cleared customs without any problems and waited in a rather seedy transit lounge for their first contact with Elscol Loro. They kept their eyes open since the only way they could recognize her visually was from a rather blurry static holo that had been included in their hastily compiled briefing notes. It looked to Face like it had been a frame captured from a holographic message, but he couldn't be sure. It was out of focus just enough that he hoped _she _would recognize _them_.

Should Elsco be unrecognizable, she could reveal herself with a pass-code that General Cracken had given them, and they in turn would have to give the proper response. The phrases themselves gave Face a pretty good idea what her cover identity would be.

There were several other people sitting in the lounge, none of which he would want to meet in a dark alley. They sat there for over half an hour before Elscol made her appearance, and she did not look anything like the holo. Her auburn hair was straggly, looking very much like it needed to be washed. She wore an extremely tight blouse in a shade of yellow that was offensive to the eyes, and her cleavage was just as hard to miss. The skirt was so short that she had to pull at it before she sat.

Sitting down beside Kell, she placed her left hand on his knee. "You look like the kind of man who knows what to do with his hands." She smiled expectantly at him, and he smiled back.

Her hand began to slide further up towards his thigh, but he quickly took it in his and looked into her eyes. "Is there somewhere we can go to get better acquainted?"

"There sure is, handsome. You can even bring your friend. I know someone he might like."

"Lead the way." He put an arm around her waist and picked up his satchel with his free hand. Face followed closely behind them, surreptitiously glancing from side to side to see if anyone was paying an inordinate amount of attention to them. He couldn't see anything suspicious, but from passed experience knew that meant little, especially in an environment that he was not accustomed to.

Once they made it out into the streets of Jimmarra, Elscol picked up the pace. Kell and Face did their best to keep up with her as she threaded her way through a market and several back alleys. Finally they made it to a cantina with a picture of a protocol droid doing what looked like an awkward jig painted on the front. Face could read _The Dancing Droid _in faded lettering in basic and several other languages.

They made their way through the crowded cantina to a back room. To the side of that room was a door hidden behind a curtain, leading to a secret chamber. Within were scattered chairs, a small wooden table, and discarded wrappers of ration bars.

"It's safe to talk here. It's swept daily for listening devices," Elscol said as she slipped a dark tunic over her garish blouse.

Kell sat down heavily on one of the chairs, dumping his bag on the floor beside him. "You know, when you first sat down beside me in that lounge, I really thought you were coming on to me. You don't look anything like your holo."

"I thought that was the whole idea. Don't they teach you Intelligence boys anything anymore?"

Face sat down beside Kell and leaned on the table. "You'll have to forgive his stupidity. We've been on the move for the last twenty-four hours. We'll try to make a better impression after we've eaten and gotten some sleep."

"All right. I'll give you boys a couple of hours to get yourselves together. But after that we have to get some serious planning done. I have to leave to meet with Tycho and the gang in six hours, and I want you guys to get some work done while I'm gone."

"You mean we aren't going to be in on the planning with the Rogues?"

"Actually, I wasn't even going to tell them that you're here. I didn't think they'd care."

Kell winced. "Ouch, I'm glad you're on our side."

"Then you had better get some sleep, hotshot, because I haven't even started yet."

* * * * * * * *

A thin lipped smile on her face, Lathel Tchlinda stood at her window and watched as Wedge's X-wing was lowered into place in front of and below the huge black monument. It was exactly as it had been when it had been captured by the _Querulous._ Even the astromech droid was in its slot, deactivated. Soon she would complete the memorial to her sons by adding the finishing touch: the man who had murdered them. Wedge Antilles.

She had been so proud when her sons, Allston and Stackpll, had graduated top of their classes from the Imperial Academy on Carida. Their first real assignments had been on the Emperor's second Death Star. It was ironic that they had both been assigned to the same base.

She had been on the _Querulous_ when the news of the Emperor's death at Endor had reached her. For weeks she could see her sons' faces as death took them. They haunted her in her sleep, and she could not escape their stare. She knew what they wanted. They wanted her to take revenge on the man who had killed them.

Revenge on _him_.

The then Commander Antilles had been paraded around the galaxy, hailed as a Hero of the Rebellion. The man who had killed the Death Star and the Empire. _The man who killed my future! _She slammed her hand out of frustration against the wall to the left of the window. Her sons were to have been her legacy. They could have been greater than she could ever be; something for her to be proud of. They would have reached heights that she could never achieve, limited by her position and gender. And now all that she had was a deep hole within her, a void that, despite all she had accomplished, she could never fill.

She watched as the X-wing settled into place, and she hoped that Antilles would be alert enough to understand his circumstances. She wanted to see every thought, every emotion cross his face as the air was removed from his cockpit and he slowly asphyxiated. And there he would stay, a symbol of the sacrifice her sons made for their Emperor.

Her frustration faded as she thought about her impending moment of revenge. Her mind turned to Antilles and the agony she had inflicted on him over the last few days. That had served to quiet the voices of her sons as they cried out for revenge, but it was never enough. She would have to return to the interrogation chamber and exact some new form of suffering on Antilles.

When a new manner of torture occurred to her, a cruel smile spread across her face. She picked up her comlink and thumbed it on. "Lieutenant Heblon. Have your stormtroopers escort General Antilles to chamber two two three."

"As you will, Madame."

With a last glance at the X-wing, she headed for her next and most satisfying "appointment" with the General.

* * * * * * * *

Wedge was half dragged, half carried to a different chamber this time. He guessed that Tchlinda had exhausted all the possibilities of the Interrogation Chair.

It was a sterile looking room, the walls, floor, and ceiling a harsh white. It was brightly lit and smelled vaguely like a medical facility. There were consoles in the room as well, but they had all been pushed to one side and looked like they hadn't been used in a while.

In the middle of the room was a metal table at least a meter and a half in length and just wide enough to accommodate a body. He recognized the table from the couple of times he had been in morgues. It was where they performed autopsies.

Wedge tried to fight the two stormtroopers who dragged him onto the table, but what little strength he had wasn't nearly enough. They lay him face down, his already bloodied and bruised wrists and ankles bound with thick straps at the four corners of the table. His arms were stretched out so tight that he could hardly breath, and it felt like his shoulders would dislocate if he moved. The table was cold and hard on the bare skin of his chest, sending a chill though him. His flesh puckered at the touch of the metal, or perhaps at the thought of what new torture they were about to inflict on him.

As the stormtroopers finished binding his ankles, Wedge closed his eyes and attempted to take in a deep breath. He also tried to clamp down on the growing terror he felt. He didn't succeed at either. Tchlinda had been working on him for several days, and he knew his body was close to its breaking point. Heblon had done his best to help Wedge, but he didn't have the medical equipment or the time he needed to completely heal him. The Lieutenant had begged Turpa to let him dunk Wedge in a bacta tank, but he had refused. So he had been trying to heal him the traditional way.

But it had now reached a point that nothing Heblon did could ease the throbbing in Wedge's belly and chest. Even the concoction he had given him the night of the party no longer helped to dull the pain. Wedge knew from experience and basic medical training that he most likely had internal bleeding and without proper bacta treatment would eventually bleed to death; if Tchlinda didn't kill him first.

He grunted as another wave of nausea and anxiety pulsed through him. The only position that he found could help make him a bit more comfortable was to curl up into a knot, lying on his side and bringing his knees up to his chest. But stretched out the way he was, there was nothing he could do. Hopelessness threatened to overwhelm him, and he no longer had the energy to fight it.

A noise somewhere behind him brought his attention back to the room and his present predicament. Although the door was not within his field of vision, he heard Tchlinda enter the room and dismiss the two stormtroopers with a barked order. She approached Wedge from the bottom of the table, running her hand along his back as she advanced towards his head, but he still couldn't see her. Because his arms were stretched out tight, his left cheek was practically pinned to the metallic surface of the table.

"General, we meet again." Her voice was cold, taunting. He had figured out in some of his more lucid moments that not responding to her seemed to upset and frustrate her, so he remained silent. She circled around to his right and leaned down so that he could see her merciless face. "You may have noticed that we are not in familiar surroundings, General. I have something new planned for you today."

Something in her hand reflected the light in the room. It took Wedge a moment to realize that it was a sharp looking curved blade. _Some kind of medical instrument,_ he thought. He swallowed hard and tried not to imagine what she planned to use it for.

"I see fear in your eyes, General. That is good. It is a place to start, at least."

She disappeared from his view again, and he expected her to continue with her sneers, but there was only silence. He quickly lost track of where she was.

It was then that he felt the slight pressure of a hand on the exposed skin of his back. It was almost immediately followed by intense pain as the knife made its first slice into his skin.

* * * * * * * *

Heblon had gone to meet with Elscol Loro earlier in the day at the _Dancing Droid_. She had given him the details of the scheme that they had put together, but only as far as it concerned him. He knew why she couldn't tell him the whole plan. He was an Imperial Lieutenant, after all. They would only trust him so far. But he couldn't help but think that by keeping him out of the loop he could cause more problems than he could solve.

At that meeting she had also introduced him to two men who were working for her. "Heblon, these two are Face and Kell. They are here to help us free General Antilles." She turned back towards the two men. "This is Lieutenant Tonar Heblon. He's the man on the inside that I was telling you about."

The two men nodded. Heblon assumed that Elscol had hired them on to expand her team of local rebels.

The tall man spoke to him first. "How's Wedge doing?"

_Wedge? Could they be more friends of his? _"I haven't seen him since this morning, but he's going downhill fast. Without better equipment, I can't make a complete diagnosis, but I am pretty sure that he is still bleeding internally, perhaps some organ damage, a number of bruised and broken ribs, and has had at least one concussion. I've been able to get some bacta for him, but until you can get him to a proper medical facility, he will continue to weaken."

Kell looked concerned, but the handsome man beside him seemed to be able to hide his emotions extremely well. He thought for a moment, then spoke. "Are you a doctor?"

The question caught Heblon by surprise. "I used to be, a long time ago. Turpa knows that and I think that is why he had me assigned to looking after him. He knew that if he let Antilles die, Tchlinda would probably kill him."

Face looked over at Elscol. "From what you've told us, I don't think there's much chance of us being able to get Wedge out of the garrison. I think our best bet is still to go after him at the ceremony."

"He's right," Kell continued. "Even if Heblon could get us into the complex, I can pretty much guarantee that we wouldn't be able to get back out without being discovered. Then getting off the planet would be next to impossible, especially with Wedge in such a weakened condition."

Elscol looked down at her datapad "If we do this at the ceremony, we're going to have to go full scale, taking the palace and the garrison. We're going to need a lot of troops and even more fire power."

Kell's face brightened as a thought occurred to him. "Do you have any explosives?"

Face laughed and Elscol looked at him, confused. Once he managed to contain his mirth, he explained. "I'm sorry. I'm just surprised it took Kell this long to ask that question."

Kell frowned. "The way you talk, you would think that I sleep with explosives under my pillow."

"You mean you don't?"

He gave Face a toothy grin. "Not since Tyria came along."

Now Heblon was certain that they were friends of Wedge. They all had the same deranged sense of humor. He guessed they must have been sent by the New Republic and were not mercenaries as he had previously thought. _I guess that's why I wasn't assigned to Intelligence. _"I'm sorry to break this up, but we do have work to do. I should be back at the barracks before they return Wedge to his cell."

Kell looked at him. "Sorry. What I was thinking before Face rudely interrupted was that if someone could get me some explosives, then maybe I could get into the plaza and rig something up that could be detonated by remote. Nothing fancy, just enough to cause a little confusion. The way I see it, we have to keep their forces off balance long enough for ground troops to arrive and take over."

"I think I can get my hands on what you would need for that." Elscol made a small notation on her datapad and showed it to Kell. A broad grin spread across his face.

"Elscol, if you can get your hands on that for me, I could blow half the garrison into little bits."

"I thought you might like it."

Face tried to lean over the table to see what it was that she had shown Kell. "What? What is it?"

Kell shoved him back into his seat. "People who make fun of me don't get to know my little secrets."

Face just stuck his tongue out at him.

"What is it that Wedge does to make his pilots into such children?" Elscol demanded, exasperation coloring her tone.

"Hey, I think we've just been insulted," Kell said to Face.

"Does anyone have any other ideas?" Elscol asked, purposely ignoring Kell.

Face looked over at her, then back to Heblon. "I have an idea, but it will all depend on Heblon here."

"What is it?" Heblon asked.

Face told him.

Heblon stood up so fast that his chair tipped behind him. "Are you out of your mind?!"

"Wouldn't be the first time," Face joked.

"If you get caught, I won't be able to protect you. They will kill you and most likely me as well."

"I think it's a chance that we have to take to make sure that we get Wedge out of harm's way before they can kill him."

Kell stooped and picked up Heblon's chair for him. The Imperial Lieutenant sat down again. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Not really...but again, it wouldn't be the first time." Face smiled, and Heblon knew they were all in real trouble. 


	17. Chapter 17

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**17**

The _Errant Venture_ hung in low orbit above the dirty orange and gray sphere of the gas giant Arramsetti I. The Star Destroyer overshadowed the two Mon Calamari Star Cruisers that kept formation with her.

Two hours before, Elscol Loro and Sixtus Quinn had arrived in their old transport ship, _Forzani's Pride_. Tycho had met them in Booster's private landing bay. He had wanted to know how they knew he would be able to meet them and have a large enough force to take on a Moff and her Star Destroyer. Elscol had just shrugged. "You'll see."

A final council of war was about to be held in one of the largest briefing rooms. Sitting at the head of the table, Tycho looked around the room and smiled to himself. _It almost feels like old times._

The Captains of the Thyferran cruisers sat with several of their staff, going over information that had been downloaded to their data pads. It had taken some convincing, but with Bror Jace and Captain Assay's help, he'd managed to talk the ruling council of Thyferra into releasing the two ships to his command so that they could support the rescue effort. They would also be supplying a few hundred infantry troops for the ground side of the operation.

Eight of Rogue Squadron's pilots sat to one side of the room with the dozen pilots of the _Errant Venture's_ hastily gathered starfighter squadron. It was made up of pilots of varying skill, their six Z-95 Headhunters, and six Uglies. Those ships, commonly referred to by the slang term Uglies, were cobbled together from whatever spare parts were available, most of the time from various different kinds of fighters. They could be unreliable craft, sometimes accumulating design flaws from several ships.

Down the table to Tycho's right sat Wes, Hobbie, Elscol and Sixtus, speaking together in hushed tones. Wes was showing signs of coming back to his old self, and that worried Tycho to no end. Hobbie, after emerging from the bacta hale and hearty, had insisted on participating in the briefing. He would be flying a borrowed X-wing of the TADF.

Corran, Mirax, Bror, and Ajene sat down the other side of the table. Leaning over Corran and Mirax was the imposing figure of Booster Terrik, owner and Captain of the _Errant Venture_. He had become a surrogate father to Wedge after his parents had been killed and he was understandably upset over his capture.

_Okay, everyone is here. Time to talk battle._ Tycho stood up and rapped his knuckles on the tabletop. "If I could have everyone's attention, it's time we got started."

With that, the twenty pilots sitting on the far side of the room approached the table in order to be able to hear and see everything that went on. They stood in a group to Tycho's right, just behind Wes and Hobbie.

"First, for those of you who may not know him, this is Booster Terrik, Captain of the _Errant Venture_. A good deal of the guns on the _Venture_ are non-operational, so he and his ship are here as a show of power for the _Querulous, _as well as adding a dozen pilots to the mix and carrying the shuttles containing our ground troops_._"

Booster nodded to the group.

Corran, his son-in-law, grinned wickedly. "Yeah, and the truly momentous news is that he's doing all this for free." He ducked just as Booster took a swipe at his head, and Mirax laughed. It was good to see the two men in her life only play fighting for a change.

"Colonel, who is the commander of the _Querulous_? And is she the only ship they've got?" Captain Assay spoke up, anxious to get into the details of the coming mission.

"Yes, she's all they've got as far as we know." Tycho signaled to Elscol, and she hit a couple of buttons on her datapad. The holoprojector at the center of the table hummed to life, and a half meter long image of a Victory Class Star Destroyer hovered in the air. "The Interdictor that they used to grab Wedge was returning a favor owed to their commander, Admiral Osiel Turpa. It is not a part of their regular force. I contacted New Republic Intelligence for more information on him. He's not very well known, but we do know that he's not much of a military leader. His main claim to power seems to be the fact that he is Moff Lathel Tchlinda's lover. They are about as viscous a pair as you will ever find."

Elscol consulted her datapad and tapped some more keys. The Star Destroyer disappeared and was replaced by a planet with some small brown continents, predominated by blue oceans. She pointed to the largest continent before speaking. "Our source on the planet has informed us that Turpa will be attending the ceremony tomorrow, and his XO will be in command. A Commander Jarice Cright if our information can be trusted. It seems that he will do everything by the book, and is not particularly good at thinking on his feet."

Tycho spoke up again. "Moff Tchlinda has only that one ship, but we can't discount the fact that they have some hidden firepower, especially after yesterday's skirmish. They're now short more than two squadrons of TIEs, and that will hurt them. We had firepower that she probably didn't count on, and she may look for additional protection from us."

"So here is how we are going to proceed. The _Errant Venture_ and her two escorts will have the responsibility of dealing with the _Querulous_ and anything else the Moff may throw at them. The _Venture's _fighter group is going to be working with Rogue Squadron to keep the _Querulous_' TIEs off the three big ships, as well as the ground forces when they head dirtside."

"Everyone has been given specific targets to hit, but any targets of opportunity will also be dealt with accordingly. Elscol, Sixtus, and Major Tuvora will be leading the ground assault. They will be in communication with us from the surface and will be our eyes and ears. Nawara will be in our Lambda class shuttle and will be monitoring communications between us. He will also be assigning targets on an as needed basis."

"One more thing. Rogue Squadron will again be one over full strength tomorrow, since Bror Jace has asked to be included in this mission. He will be designated Rogue Plus. Good to have you fighting with us again, Mr. Jace."

"The pleasure's all mine." The tall Thyferran nodded to him.

"In order to even the Flights out a bit, Wes and Hobbie will be their own Fourth Flight. Bror, you will join Corran and Ooryl in Three Flight. That will leave you a pilot short, Corran, but I'm sure you'll be able to make it work."

"He forgot to include Bror's ego," Gavin whispered to Inyri from his place behind Hobbie. She stifled a laugh, and that caught Tycho's attention.

"Do you have something to add, Mr. Darklighter?"

Gavin straightened under the gaze of his commanding officer. "No, sir."

"Wes, Hobbie, I know you two will be all right on your own. And Hobbie, please don't damage the Thyferran X-wing. I don't have enough credits in my account to pay for it."

There was scattered laughter throughout the group, and Hobbie's face reddened.

"Mirax, I am afraid that I couldn't think up a designation for you. I ran out of fancy names. So you will be the _Skate_ for the duration of the mission."

She nodded.

"All right, everyone. I trust you've had time to study the data you've been supplied. Elscol is going to give you a bit of background that wasn't covered in the downloads."

Elscol stood and looked over the group. She tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her left ear and began her briefing. "Arramsetti III has been under Imperial rule for about ten years now. The local government sold out to the Empire when two Imperial Star Destroyers showed up in system demanding their surrender. Since Arramsetti had no defense force of its own, having depended on its rather out-of-the-way location as its primary source of protection, the government's leaders made the wisest choice and surrendered. The Destroyers were prepared to slag the place otherwise."

"The Empire intended to use the planet as a forward staging area for future conquests. Those plans never materialized, however, since the Rebellion gave them plenty to worry about closer to home. The _Querulous _was left here to control the system while the second Destroyer, _Delirium,_ joined the Imperial fleet at Endor, where it was turned into a flaming wreck."

"Their capital city is Jimmarra, and that is where all of their defenses are located. There is still a large, fairly well equipped garrison there, and it is the local Moff's, Lathel Tchlinda, seat of power. Unlike several other females who hold the title of Moff, due to the deaths of husbands or fathers, Tchlinda earned her position. She is smart, ruthless, and has all the warmth and personality of the late, and much beloved, Ysanne Isard."

There was a round of laughter at the comment, and Elscol smiled. Nodding to the big man on her right, she continued. "Sixtus and I, along with a handful of others, have been on planet for about six months. We have been working with New Republic Intelligence, forwarding reports and generally causing problems for the Moff and her group."

Tycho nodded. Now he knew how Elscol had found out where and when to reach him. No doubt she had been in contact with Coruscant, maybe even General Cracken himself, when she found out where Wedge was. In that case she would know exactly what kind of force Tycho had put together.

"The local populace are sick of Tchlinda's presence on their world and are ready for a change of government. We've got everything in place to accomplish that, including a few surprises here and there that I am not at liberty to discuss here."

Tycho raised his eyebrows at that final comment. He had not realized that there were elements to the plan that he was not aware of. He guessed that Elscol, used to working on her own, did not want to share all the details to ensure mission security. But he trusted her implicitly and decided not to press the matter. He just hoped that he would not regret that decision.

"We've just been waiting for the right time and set of circumstances to present themselves to make our move. This may not be the right time, but it is certainly the right set of circumstances."

There was a general murmur of agreement from the group.

"In her desire to exact revenge against Wedge Antilles for the deaths of her sons, who were on the Death Star at Endor, she forgot Rule Number One of Imperial survival. _Don't take on Rogue Squadron._ Tomorrow, she will learn the full magnitude of her mistake."

"About six hours before your departure for Arramsetti III, Sixtus, Major Tuvora, and myself will be heading back to get everything ready for your arrival. Tycho?"

Tycho nodded. "Thanks, El." He turned to the group he had assembled. "You all know your assignments and what is expected of you. There's a friend of ours that needs us and we will make sure that we don't let him down. Are there any questions?"

He paused and looked at the faces of his pilots. "In that case then...Everyone, study the data and get as much rest as possible. We go at 1000 tomorrow and it's going to be a very busy day."

Tycho looked out over the group one last time. "And thank you all for you efforts. May the Force be with us." He paused and glanced down at the tabletop. "And with Wedge." 


	18. Chapter 18

****

**18**

Heblon returned to the barracks just prior to nightfall, about thirty minutes before Wedge was returned to his detention cell. They had been through this routine a number of times now. For the last few days, Moff Tchlinda had tortured Wedge to within a millimeter of his life. Each time he had been returned to his cell in a pitiful condition, and Heblon had done his best to ease his pain and make him healthy enough to withstand the next session_. _But now only Heblon knew that he also had to keep Wedge alive long enough to be rescued by his friends.

As the stormtroopers unloaded Wedge onto his bunk, Heblon knew that he was in worse shape than ever before. He was very pale, shivering uncontrollably, and barely conscious. Heblon gave a silent prayer that he would survive the night.

He turned to the two troopers standing in the doorway. He knew he had to keep up the pretense of being loyal to the Empire, although it sickened him more and more every time he had to do it. "Why I have to look after this rebel scum every time someone dumps him in his bunk is beyond me. But it's always me." He made a big show of his long sigh. "You're dismissed, I guess."

The troopers turned from their Lieutenant and hurriedly left the room. Heblon now had his troopers posted further down the hall where they could sit at a table instead of remaining at attention directly outside the door. There was really no need for a guard at all anymore since Heblon was with Wedge most of the time and the pilot was in no condition to go anywhere. But it would look suspicious if he sent them away completely.

As soon as the troopers were out of earshot, he closed the hatch. Heblon returned to and knelt beside the small bunk. He placed his hand on Wedge's forehead and found it burning and sweaty. Quickly gathering a rag and basin of water, he soaked then placed the cool wet cloth on Wedge's forehead for a minute and then on his chest and arms. He knew that he would have to cool him down or the fever would kill him.

_Well, it will be one of the things that will kill him._

"I'm going to d-die. W-why don't you just let me?" Wedge said in a pitiful voice. It was rough, nearly inaudible, as if his throat was raw from screaming. There was real fear in his eyes, and Heblon's heart sank. After days of torture, Tchlinda had finally broken the spirit that he had come to admire so much.

"You're not going to die, Wedge. Not here and definitely not because of these people." He made sure to speak to him in low tones. He couldn't know for sure, but the cell had to be monitored and he didn't want to blow his cover. But he found that he wasn't worried about himself anymore. His goal was to live long enough to get Wedge out of harm's way.

_It's such a strange feeling to care about someone else's life more than my own. Now I know why the Rebels fight as hard as they do._

"P-please just let me die. I can't take anymore. I tried to be strong, but it hurts too much." He began to sob and tried to roll into the fetal position that he had so often adopted in the past few days. Heblon reached around to Wedge's back to help him move onto his side. When he felt something warm and sticky, he pulled his hand back. It was covered in blood. He gently rolled Wedge towards him so he could have a better look at whatever new wound he had. It was only then that Heblon saw some of what Tchlinda had done to his back.

It was a mess, to put it mildly. It looked like someone had taken a very sharp blade and carved into his skin an approximation of the Rebel Alliance crest, about thirty centimeters in diameter. At least that is what it looked like it had been originally, before it had been mutilated. There were slash marks and welts all over his back, as if someone had taken a thin piece of fiberplast and repeatedly attacked it, trying to obliterate the symbol. Blood oozed from the wounds onto the bunk, where a small puddle was just starting to form.

"By the Gods...Just rest easy, son. I'm going to get you something that will help you feel better." He very carefully returned Wedge to his fetal position, lying on his right side. The pilot gritted his teeth and clutched the thin mattress in an effort not to scream out.

But when Heblon started to rise, Wedge's hand came up and gripped his wrist. "No, don't leave me. I don't want to be alone when I...when I die."

"You're delirious. You're not going to die. I'm going to see what I can scrounge up to try and stop the bleeding and make you more comfortable."

"Heblon, I can't take it anymore. Please, I'm tired...tired of fighting."

The older man leaned in close and spoke so low that he wasn't even sure that Wedge would be able to hear him. "Wedge, I wasn't going to tell you this because it could possibly jeopardize their mission, but I think you have the right to know. I have been in communication with some friends of yours who have contacted your squad mates. They're planning a rescue mission for tomorrow. So you are going to have to hang on just one day more. You can do that, can't you?"

"I...I can do that..." He coughed and wrapped his arms around his belly. "Argh!!" His scream echoed through the tiny cell. His eyes widened, and he clutched Heblon's arm again, leaving bruised fingerprints on his skin. Heblon had never seen panic on his face like this before. Wedge tried desperately to draw a breath.

"Wedge?"

Suddenly Wedge's hand slipped from Heblon's forearm and his eyes rolled back into his head. A long breath escaped from him and then he was silent.

"No!" Heblon searched for a pulse at Wedge's neck and couldn't find one. "No, no, no, no. Don't do this to me."

Despite the wounds, Heblon flipped Wedge onto his back, dropping a blanket to the floor. He searched for the bottom of Wedge's rib cage, found it, and moved one fist width up. He placed the heel of his left hand down firmly on his chest, covered it with his right hand, then laced his fingers together. He pressed down hard five times, waited a moment, and then repeated the gesture. After another five seconds, he went through the procedure one more time. He stopped, tilted the younger man's head back slightly, pinched his nose, and tried to blow some oxygen into his lungs. He did this twice, then started to compress his chest again.

Heblon kept pumping his hand over the pilot's heart, hoping that it would be enough to convince it to start beating again. "You can't do this, Antilles! The Empire couldn't kill you with two Death Stars, I know you aren't going to let them get you this easy. _Live, damn it_!"

He stopped and tried again for a pulse at the neck. To his surprise, he found one. But it was weak, and he was still not breathing on his own.

"I hate to do this, but it's for your own good_._"Heblon stood over Wedge and slapped him hard across the face. He hoped that the shock would start spontaneous breathing again. "Come on. _Come on_!"

He slapped him again. When that didn't seem to have any effect, he grabbed Wedge by the shoulders and shook him violently. There was a slight wheezing gasp as Wedge drew in a rasping breath. There was a pause followed by a couple of gulped breaths, but then his breathing became more regular, if a little shallow.

Heblon sat down heavily on the bunk next to him, wiping sweat from his own forehead. He realized he was shaking, but wasn't sure if it was adrenaline or anger. All he knew for sure was that his head was pounding fit to burst.

As he tried to catch his breath, Heblon thought he heard someone whisper something and he spun to look behind him. There was no one there. He shook his head in disbelief at how jumpy he had become, then regretted it as his head pounded even harder.

Without warning, Wedge sat upright, his hands grasping at the empty air in front of him. The violence of the motion knocked Heblon to the floor.

"_Corran_!" Wedge screamed. As suddenly as it happened, Wedge collapsed back onto the bunk, unconscious.

Heblon hauled himself up off the floor, rubbing at his left hip. A shiver ran down his spine, and he sat down heavily on the chair next to Wedge's bunk, breathing hard.

"This is going to be a long night."

* * * * * * * *

Corran Horn sat in the middle of his temporary quarters on the _Errant Venture,_ legs crossed beneath him. His hands rested on his knees, palms up, and his eyes were closed. He inhaled and exhaled slowly in a steady rhythm.

Mirax had gone to bed early as Tycho had suggested. Like many of the others, she hadn't slept well since Wedge's disappearance and wanted to get as much rest possible before the mission. Corran had wanted to stay up a little later. She asked him about it, but he couldn't tell her. He would speak to her about it only if his plan worked. He didn't want to worry her, but she had still gotten that look on her face--the look that she got when she knew it was some _Jedi thing_. A mixture of curiosity and concern for his safety.

All through the briefing that Tycho and Elscol had given earlier that day, Corran had been trying to shield himself from the emotions of the thirty or so people around him. Their feelings about Wedge and the coming mission had reached such a point that even his untrained talent in the Force had been overwhelmed. He had not been entirely successful at blocking it all out, but he had been able to make it bearable with sustained concentration. Through the clutter of emotions, worry and anxiety came through as clear as a supernova.

Corran couldn't help but share their anxiety, but he also felt a monumental amount of helplessness and frustration. The uncertainty of the situation, not truly knowing if Wedge were dead or alive, was hard for him to deal with. He needed to do something to bring the situation under his control.

It was then that he decided to take some action on his own to assure that Wedge was still alive. Elscol seemed to trust the Imperial contact they had, but Corran needed his own confirmation that their friend was still alive to be rescued.

Although he had turned down Luke Skywalker's offer to train to be a Jedi, that had not stopped Luke from sending Corran files on the history of the order and some training exercises. So when all the planning was done and all they had to do was wait or sleep, Corran had done some research. He had waded his way through the material, searching for any information on visions, determined to use what talent he had to find his friend. Because the more he thought about the dream he had had about Wedge the other night, the more he had become convinced that it had been a Force vision. He had somehow been _shown_ events that were unfolding hundreds of light years away. But what he had seen had been unclear and jumbled, as dreams often are, perhaps because of his untrained grasp of the Force. So Corran had a goal. He wanted to attempt to bring on a vision, something he had never done or even attempted before.

He knew from what he had read that it would be a difficult task, if not impossible, for someone untrained to accomplish. What he wanted to do required a fine control and intimate connection with the Force that he simply did not yet possess.

In the year since he had learned about his Jedi heritage, Corran had not committed a lot of time and effort to improving his skill. He had not yet been able to break through the ever present barrier that seemed to be between him and the Force. He was still not capable of touching it, drawing on it whenever he needed it.

_I know I haven't trained and will most likely fail, but I still have to try. But Wedge is so far away..._

The Force had come to him before, through no action of his own. Sometimes in battle or other times of stress, he had been able to sense others around him and what their actions would be a handful of seconds beforehand. And while escaping from the _Lusankya_, he had unknowingly touched and influenced the mind of a stormtrooper. But it usually happened when the people he cared about were in trouble, and he was all that stood between them and disaster. At times like that, he had known he was as good as dead and acted with a peace and calm that was not usually in his nature. He knew now that the Force had been guiding him.

_As it will guide me to Wedge...I hope._

But what he wanted to do now was on a much larger scale, and could be just as dangerous as taking on stormtroopers single handedly. In the limited material he had found on visions and premonitions, there had been cases of young Jedi going into a deep trancelike state, moving out of their bodies and never being able to return, leaving an empty shell where once a person had been. They had had more training than Corran did, but they were still inexperienced, obviously unskilled in the abilities needed to return to themselves. _Kinda like me, I guess._

Corran felt a trickle of fear at that realization. He was going to attempt something he had never even considered trying before and that others had tried and failed. He had no intention of turning himself into a vegetable, but he knew there could be consequences to his actions that far outweighed the benefits of his plan.

_Should I do this? I _need _to know if Wedge is still alive and I need to do something...anything! But is it worth the risk? _Yes_! He's my friend and I will not let him down. But what if I get lost? What if I find out something I don't want to know? What if he's..._

His breath caught in his throat and his eyes popped open. His concentration dissolved as anxiety and fear sprang up from within him. He brought up his hands to massage his temples. It eased some of the strain, but the fear remained. Not for the first time, he wondered at what he was trying to do. He also thought about what Luke would say if he knew.

He thought back to all the conversations they had had. In a lot of ways, Luke reminded him of Wedge. They were both good men who had repeatedly put their own lives on hold and in danger so that the rest of the galaxy could continue on. And both men had guided Corran in the path of life, leaving their mark on him. But now they seemed to be in conflict. Luke would frown on his rushing into something as dangerous as what he was about to try, whereas he knew in his heart that Wedge needed him.

_It's funny how I think of Wedge and Luke as father figures when they are pretty much the same age as I am._

Corran sighed and returned to the task at hand. He knew that he could very well be placing his own life in danger, but Wedge was out there somewhere, depending on him and the rest of the Rogues to rescue him. _But am I doing this for the right reasons? For Wedge or for myself?_

That was the real root of the problem. He knew deep down that a Jedi should place the lives of others above his own, but he was not sure if he was trying to reach out to Wedge to help his friend or to quiet his own growing fears.

_Should I even be trying this?_ He sat in deep thought for a few moments, arguing back and forth with himself. _Wedge needs me. I know it. I can feel it. It's like his life depends on me. But can I make this work?_

He shook his head. _No more stalling. I have to do this._

He took a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly through his mouth. He had become quite an expert on Jedi breathing and relaxation techniques over the past year. _Comes from spending hours alone in the cockpit of my X-wing, going into combat. If there was ever a time that you needed to try and relax, that's it._

He closed his eyes and took two more deep breaths. He tried to let all of the stress and doubt of the last few days bleed out of him every time he exhaled. He didn't enjoy much success.

_A Jedi can only act when he is at peace with himself and everything around him,_ he heard Luke's voice admonish him.

His breathing fell into a steady rhythm and he began to relax, his brain starting to let go of all the troubling thoughts. He tried to reach out with his mind, his first true steps towards the gift that had been his family's for generations.

As he fell deeper into his meditation, he began to feel...something. He didn't really know what it was, but could sense it in the air. He tried harder to reach for it, but in the end there was nothing there.

_Remember, the Jedi must trust their feelings above all else,_ Luke said to him.

_Thanks, Luke, but that's easier said than done._

He knew that he was trying too hard, thinking instead of feeling. He made a sudden decision not to push it and eased into the Force, letting it touch him instead of rushing after it. As he cleared his mind again, he dropped his mental shields and opened himself up to everything around him.

Corran let his thoughts float from one memory to another. A picture of Wedge surfaced, everything that made him who he was: his face, his personality, his soul. He let the warmth of his feelings for his friend wash over him, relaxing him to a point that he was afraid he might just drift off to sleep.

There was a sudden touch of electricity in the air, returning him to the present, and the hair on Corran's neck and arms stood on end. He twitched when he realized he was no longer alone.

The presence was intangible at first, and he could not focus on it. He increased his concentration a little to see if he could figure out who it could be. As small details sharpened into images he could understand, he knew that the person was in a deep sleep. His face scrunched as he tried to make the contact clearer.

_How can I figure out who this person is?_ He sighed quietly, suppressing his frustration. _Relax, Horn, let it come to you. Pushing will get you nowhere._

Suddenly he had his answer as he discerned some of the thoughts and emotions of the person. But he was a little disappointed when he realized it was Mirax, asleep in the next room.

_Of course, why didn't I think of it before? I know her better than anyone in the galaxy. I would naturally be drawn to her._

He lingered with her for a few minutes, finding peace and security in her dreamlike state. With her comforting presence, he tried to refine his technique, but knew he would have to expand his consciousness out towards Arramsetti III.

He felt fear for a moment, remembering all the lost Jedi. _If a trained Jedi can get lost out there, what are the chances that I will?_ His thoughts turned to Mirax, and the fact that he was risking their future together on a foolish need to gain some control of an out of control situation.

He dismissed that thought and pushed his fear aside, moving on with determination as he remembered his friend, a captive on that planet. _Probably hurt. Maybe alone and despairing of ever being found. Like I felt on the _Lusankya.

Corran tried to recall what he had done to find Mirax so he could apply the same technique to finding Wedge. He thought about the planet, green and full of life, and tried to _fly_ there as he would in his X-wing. But that did not get him any closer to his goal. _Except maybe one step closer to a massive headache._ _I'm being too literal here. I have to think like a Jedi_. His mind went blank._ Well, so much for that idea._

_Feel, don't think. Feel, don't think. _Feel_, don't think! _He chanted it to himself like a mantra, but it still wasn't working.

Again and again he tried to without success to push past Mirax. He could feel the Force, but it danced just outside his grasp, and that disillusioned him. After an hour, he slumped to the deck, exhausted. He lay there on his back staring up at the ceiling, and a feeling of failure came over him, despite the fact that the experience was the closest he had ever come to employing the Force.

He slowly climbed to his feet and headed for the bedroom. He found Mirax there, sleeping as he had felt earlier. He stripped off his uniform and climbed wearily into the bed beside her. She rolled over and wrapped her arms around him.

"I was wondering when you would make it to bed," she said sleepily.

"Sorry I woke you," he whispered.

"S'right," she mumbled.

"Good night, sweetheart."

"G'night." Her breathing soon became regular again, and he knew that she had gone back to sleep. He envied her.

Even though he was worn out from his efforts, Corran found sleep as evasive as the Force had been. He tossed and turned for a while, feeling as though sleep was being denied him. Thoughts and images raced through his mind. Feelings of frustration and fear for Wedge's safety pulled him in all directions, keeping him from falling asleep.

Eventually his mind slowed, his body relaxed, and his thoughts began to drift as he entered the state that lies somewhere between sleep and consciousness. But he was still restless as his thoughts stubbornly refused to leave Wedge. Memories of his missing friend intertwined with places and sounds as they swam in and out of focus. They led him into his dream.

At least, it felt like a dream, but like his previous vision of Wedge, somehow he knew that it was real at the same time, taking place somewhere far away. It started with him sitting once again in the middle of the living area of his quarters, and he felt a slight disorientation as his mind expanded outwards. He could "hear" a murmur of voices somewhere in the distance, all speaking at once, like a vast ocean of whispers. But they remained at the boundary of his consciousness, just out of reach.

Floating outside of himself, he felt a peace he had never known before as the Force took over. He lingered there, letting his thoughts flow as the Force seemed to pass around and through him.

Without warning, the distant murmurs began to bombard him, and he thought his head would explode with all of the voices. He panicked, feeling smothered and overcome. He had to try and shut them all out before they drove him mad.

He quickly calmed himself and was able to regain a little control. _It's like being at a party, and there are thousands of people talking, all trying to be heard. But you don't listen to them all. You only listen to and concentrate on the one person you want to hear._

With that understanding, he patiently sifted through the miscellaneous conversations and voices that he was overhearing. All the while, he listened intently for the one he wanted to hear.

He felt more than heard something familiar, and paused to home in on it. He lost it as it faded into the background, and he tried desperately to find it again.

_Impatience leads to the dark side, Corran._

_I know, I know, _he thought irritably. He tried to settle down and listen carefully for the person he was seeking. _Calm, I have to stay calm. Calm, damn it!_ He grew increasingly frustrated at himself over his inability to remain composed, and he tried to center himself. Letting his frustration flow out of him, he finally found some peace and serenity. As his feeling of relaxation grew, he started to take up his search again.

Then the pain hit him.

He could hear Wedge's mental screams as if he were in the same room with him, and Corran's mind seemed to catch fire. Even though he was apart from his own physical body, he could feel the searing pain in his back, as if molten metal had been poured all over it. He felt disorientated, split between his own mind and Wedge's, and it took every ounce of control he had to fight the terror growing within him and Wedge.

Everything he was feeling quickly began to overwhelm him. He belatedly realized that his experience in the briefing room should have warned him that he did not have the defenses needed to protect himself against this kind of mental barrage. He tried desperately to break the link, but failed. And he knew that he was lost.

As suddenly as it started, the pain ceased. Corran managed to bring himself back under control and was relieved that he could still sense some weak thoughts from Wedge. But he had to struggle to keep a grip on Wedge's now elusive consciousness, and could feel that Wedge was slipping away from him. His few coherent thoughts were of a woman, who could only be Wedge's mother. _Is she singing?_ Then Wedge was silent.

Corran felt a sudden chill throughout his very being, and he had to try hard to keep control. _I just felt Wedge die. No! I can't accept that. It _must_ be a mistake. No. Please, no!_

As Wedge's presence faded altogether, Corran sensed someone else in the room, someone close to Wedge, almost in a state of panic if Corran was reading it right. He wanted to reach out to that person, to get a clearer impression of what was happening, but he knew deep down that Wedge was gone. Seeing his friend's dead body was something that he wanted to avoid.

Still, his thoughts remained with the second person. He fought against contact with him, but could see images running through the stranger's mind, too fast to make out. Then there it was, dancing in front of his eyes like a nightmare holo. A vision of Wedge, through the eyes of the second individual, lying on a bunk. He was pale and battered, blood covering the blanket beneath him.

Corran had seen hundreds of lifeless corpses over his years with CorSec and Rogue Squadron. He knew that he was looking at one now. It confirmed what he had felt earlier. Wedge was truly dead.

The thoughts of the man with Wedge echoed through Corran. _"No, no, no, no. You can't do this, Antilles! The Empire couldn't kill you with two Death Stars, I know you aren't going to let them get you this easy. Live, damn it!"_

Corran didn't want to see anymore, but he had no way to close his eyes to what the Force was making him watch. The images continued to flash before him, burning themselves into his memory. He tried his best to push his way out of that mind, but was held in place, struggling against the unseen force that kept him there.

_Please, just let me go!_ he pleaded. The only thing worse than actually finding out that Wedge was dead was to actually see it happening, etched in his mind for the rest of his life.

_It's just like when my father died in my arms. There was nothing I could do to save him._

Just as his despair reached its height, there was a spark of life. Corran focused on that spark, hoping desperately that he could will his friend back to life with his own thoughts. Wedge's presence grew stronger, and Corran knew joy, knowing that Wedge had returned. But the pain returned with him, stronger than ever, and it poured over Corran, dragging him into its currents. Down, down, he spiraled, until he thought he may never reach the surface again.

He tried to pull back to the safety of his own mind then, but could not. When Corran had been trying to lure him back to life, Wedge had instinctively latched onto him and wouldn't let go. Corran was held in a grip almost as strong as death itself as Wedge shared every bit of his pain and misery with him.

Corran, untrained and not ready to deal with this unexpected assault from Wedge, was almost completely overwhelmed by the searing pain. Not even the happiness derived from Wedge's return from the dead could alleviate the unendurable agony. He wanted to wake up or return to Mirax's comforting presence, but was unable to escape Wedge's mental grip. In desperation, Corran reached out for Mirax, every part of his mind crying out to be free of the misery.

Even though he was disassociated from his sleeping body, Corran could feel the scream rip from his throat as it did from Wedge.

* * * * * * * *

Mirax sat bolt upright in bed, holding her hands to her head as if it would burst if she let go. Corran, lying beside her, was screaming like she had never heard him scream before. But not only was he screaming there beside her, he was screaming in her mind as well.

She finally let go of her head and shook him roughly to try and wake him. "Corran? _Corran_!" His eyes flew open, but he didn't seem to see her. At least he stopped screaming.

Corran took in a shuddering breath and lost consciousness.

* * * * * * * *

Heblon turned Wedge onto his side again, taking care to avoid his back. He retrieved the blanket from the floor and covered the limp man up to his waist.

Searching for some pressure bandages amongst the meager medical supplies he had in the cell, Heblon knew that he wouldn't have anything nearly big enough to cover the extensive wounds. But he would have to do something before Wedge bled to death.

He found two large bandages and tore the packages open with his teeth, taking off the protective covering and applied them to the mutilated skin. Although they didn't cover the entire wounded area, they did seem to significantly stem the flow of blood. Heblon sighed with relief, then took his comlink out of his pocket. His hands were shaking so badly that he could hardly turn it on. He made a valiant effort to steady his voice. "Lieutenant Heblon to Eight Nine Two. Please report to detention cell Four-D."

Heblon waited a few moments for the stormtrooper to arrive. By that time, he had recovered enough to conceal some of his agitation. "Keep an eye on this prisoner. Contact me by comlink if there is any change. If he dies, I can guarantee that you will be next. Understood?"

"Yessir."

He turned and left the cell, heading for his quarters. He tried in vain to control his breathing. The next twelve hours were going to be the longest of his life.

Once he reached his quarters, he searched through his footlocker for another emergency medical kit. His next step would be the medical bay. He would have to steal what he needed. He made his way there and was relieved to find that it was empty.

After Heblon had found or stolen everything he needed, he returned to Wedge's cell and dismissed the stormtrooper with a wave of his hand. He stepped over next to the bed and emptied the contents of his bag onto the floor. Wedge still lay on his right side, his right arm dangling over the edge of the bunk. If anything, he was even paler now than he had been a half-hour before. But his breathing was still regular.

First, Heblon took the bacta bandages out of the pile and opened the sealed packages. He removed the blood soaked pressure bandages and placed the meter long bacta strips around the side of Wedge's rib cage, applying them gently to his back. Wedge tensed and groaned. "Mom?"

"Shh. Keep still while I make you feel better."

"I had such a bad dream."

"Just try to relax. You'll be feeling better and with your friends before you know it."

Heblon placed the medical thermometer next to Wedge's skin. Several lights flashed, then it beeped. It read forty-one degrees Celsius. Heblon tossed it aside. If Wedge's fever rose any higher, it could cause irreparable brain damage at best, or kill him at worst.

Moving over to the refresher station, he refilled a basin with cold water. He returned to the bunk with the basin and took strips of cloth that he had taken from his own bed in his quarters. He dipped several of the rags into the water, loosely ringing them out. He opened them up and lay them over every exposed surface of Wedge's skin, except for his back.

Then, fishing through the pile that he had emptied onto the floor, Heblon picked up a small vile of bluish liquid and a needle. After drawing the fluid into the syringe, he looked for a vein in the arm that was dangling. He injected the fluid into his vein and took note of the time. He should be able to give him another dose of the pain medication before they came for him in the morning.

Slowly lifting Wedge up into a forty-five degree position, Heblon placed the familiar cup of bacta to his lips. He seemed to wake up slightly, his eyelids fluttering and then opening. But the bloodshot brown eyes could not seem to focus. "Come on, just take a little. It will make you feel so much better."

Wedge actually seemed to understand and swallowed some of the foul tasting liquid. Heblon lowered him back down to the bunk, making sure to lie him on his side. He noticed how much lighter the already thin pilot had become.

After making certain that all of the bandages were still in place and that the rags were still cool and wet, Heblon settled in for the long hours of watching and waiting. 


	19. Chapter 19

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**19**

Wedge tried to ignore the voices arguing in his mind.

They had been at him for what seemed like hours, each trying to convince him that they were right.

The first voice, it sounded like his own, told him to give in to the pain that had been with him for days. _There is no shame in giving up. Just let go, and you can be with your parents again. There's no point in fighting death. Accept it, just like your friends before you._

Visions of all the pilots who had died fighting beside him or while under his command rose up in his memory like ghosts to torment him. He knew all along that one day his luck would run out, as theirs had. _I guess today is the day_, he thought. But he was having some difficulty organizing the words into a sentence that he recognized.

The other voice, which sounded a lot like Corran, told him not to surrender to the despair that gripped his soul. _Come on, Wedge. Don't give up now. You've come this far, you can hang on a little longer. Fight for your life!_

He wanted to fight. He had fought all of his life. But it was so much easier to resign himself to death. At least then the pain would go away. If only the pain would go away.

_Someone make it go away!_

* * * * * * * *

When Corran finally came back to his senses, he was sure that he was not where he expected to be. He tried to look around, and immediately wished he hadn't. A wave of dizziness washed over him, accompanied by a healthy dose of nausea, so he decided to lie still. But then he remembered his vision and what he had seen. He sat bolt upright, no longer worried about the dizziness.

"Whoa, Corran. Power down." Tycho had a hand on each of his shoulders, holding him back.

"Where am I?" The lights overhead were bright and the walls a plain white. He fought to focus on his surroundings.

"You're in the medical bay. Mirax practically called a full-scale emergency. You scared her to death."

_Death. _The word hung in the air in front of Corran, mocking him. Tycho didn't seem to see it.

"I had better go get her. If I don't, I may be ejected out into space."

Tycho left through the main hatch, and Corran finally managed to sit up without too much queasiness. A few moments later, Mirax flew through the door, the ties on her robe fluttering in her wake.

"Corran!!" She launched herself into his arms, threatening to drive him back down into the bed. He could feel her trembling as he wrapped his arms around his wife.

"I'm all right." He looked over Mirax's shoulder to see Tycho reenter the room, followed closely by Ajene. "How long have I been here?"

Before Tycho could answer, Mirax withdrew from him and punched him roughly in the shoulder. "You scared the hell out of me. I woke up and you were screaming in my head. What did you do?" She hugged him again. "Whatever it was, please don't ever do it again."

Tycho finally managed to get a word in. "Mirax woke up and said that you were having a nightmare. She tried to wake you, but you were unconscious and barely breathing. She called for medical assistance, and the medics managed to stabilize your condition. But before I knew it, I was nearly a pilot short. That was about an hour and a half ago."

"What time is it now?"

"It's about 2230 ship time. Now can you tell me what in the name of the Sith is going on?"

Tycho's question was a valid one, Corran knew. But he wasn't sure how to answer it. "It's still a little fuzzy." He propped up his pillows behind him and leaned back. "I was thinking earlier about the dream I spoke to you about the other day. I thought that maybe my mind was trying to tell me something. So I decided to try and...well, _sense_ Wedge, I guess. I suppose I knew that I didn't have the training to do it safely. Now I know I was right. I wish I had never even thought about it."

Mirax separated herself from him again, but she kept her hand in his. "That is what you were going to try, and you wouldn't tell me about it?"

"Yeah. I didn't want anyone to know about what I was planning because I was pretty sure that I wouldn't be able to do anything. I tried and tried until I was exhausted, but I couldn't sense him at all. I did manage to sense you in the next room, though."

Ajene looked a little confused. "Did I miss something here? How can he _sense_ anyone at all?"

Tycho looked at Ajene, then back at Corran.

Corran shrugged. "Go ahead and tell her. She would have figured it out eventually anyway."

Tycho took a deep breath and shoved both hands into the pockets of his black flightsuit. "Corran is Force sensitive. His Grandfather was a Jedi Master on Corellia during the Clone Wars. He's untrained, but he has been known to tap into it before."

Ajene looked at Corran, and as with most people who found out about his gift, she looked at him with different eyes. "Ajene, my Jedi heritage isn't generally known. There are only about five people outside of the Rogues who know. I don't want it to get out."

"I would hope by now, Corran, that you would know I can be trusted." She approached his bed with a look somewhere between a question and a plea. "I need to know. Did you ever manage to sense Wedge?"

Corran shuddered, and a lump formed in his throat. He swallowed a couple of times to try to remove it without success. "Well, you see, trying to use the Force on purpose has never really worked for me. I only seem to be able to tap into it in extreme situations. The only time I can remember doing anything like this was when I was escaping from the _Lusankya_. And that was only influencing one mind, not leaping across light years to touch the mind of another person. It's hard to explain. Somehow, I...I think I was meant to be there."

He sighed and took a deep breath before continuing. Mirax sat beside him on the edge of his bed and gave his hand a squeeze of support. "I tried and tried to reach out to Wedge, but as usual the Force remained just outside my grasp. Maybe it was doubt or anxiety that stopped me from progressing further. Who knows. I eventually gave up and went to the bedroom and began to fall into a restless sleep. But my emotions were all over the place, I guess. All kinds of things were swimming through my head. When I was somewhere between being asleep and awake, the Force came to me. A dream started, except...it wasn't a dream. I don't know how to explain it. It was like someone was playing a holodrama for me. I could see it but couldn't really play a part in it."

"Even in this dream state, I knew I had to find Wedge. My mind expanded out through the ship and I kind of hovered in the middle of nowhere. There were all these voices, probably the thoughts of the people on the ship and the planet. It was kind of overwhelming at first, but I concentrated on Wedge and eventually managed to pick him out." Corran thought about it for a moment, trying to put his thoughts into an order that he could express coherently. "Actually, that's not quite accurate. I thought I heard a familiar voice in the crowd. When I tried to concentrate on that one voice, he came in a little clearer. From what I felt, he's alive...now."

He stopped speaking as the memory of his friend's suffering sent an ache through his body. He brought up his knees and wrapped his arms around them. Tears began to build in his eyes.

Tycho managed to look confused and concerned at the same time. "What do you mean by _now_?"

"He was in so much pain, Tycho. It ripped through me and I couldn't bear it. I could reach him, but I didn't have the defenses that a Jedi would have to create a shield against the assault of emotions and feelings pouring out of him. And I was only feeling it secondhand. And then...then..." The words caught in his throat. He leaned his forehead on his knees, and the tears began to flow at the memory of the agony that Wedge was suffering and his brush with death. He felt Mirax's arms wrap around him, and he released his knees to hold onto his wife. She buried her face in his shoulder, and her own warm tears flowed through his tunic.

Ajene spoke, her voice heavy with emotion. "Corran, I need to know what happened."

He brought his head back up and swiped at his eyes with the back of his hands. He took a deep breath and looked from Mirax to Tycho, his gaze finally settling on Ajene. He saw her flinch as his eyes stared straight into hers. "I felt him die. He was there, the pain was there, and then there was nothing. He just slipped away from me. I hoped I had made a mistake and searched desperately for him, but could only sense another person nearby. I was pulled into that person and I saw Wedge's lifeless body through his eyes."

He took a moment to compose himself, wiping away the final tears straggling down his cheeks. "I don't know who that person was, but he tried to revive him. I reached out to Wedge as well, as much as I could. I wanted to try to find any trace of his mind, to try and coax it back to life. It didn't seem to be working, but suddenly he was back, and so was his suffering, stronger than ever. I tried to withdraw again, but I think Wedge unconsciously seized onto me and held me there, sharing his pain with me for a moment, taking comfort in the fact that I could give him some relief."

Mirax sat heavily down on the chair beside Corran's bed, sobbing quietly into her hands. Ajene just stood where she was, anguish plain on her face. Tycho stepped over to her, putting an arm around her shoulder, and she leaned on him for support. Corran pushed on, feeling that he had to get the experience out in the open if he was ever going to be able to cope with the emotional turmoil it left behind.

"I'm not sure what happened after that. I tried everything I could to free myself from him, to try and claw my way back to my own body. I must have latched onto Mirax and pulled my mind back to my body through her. The shock might have overloaded my senses, putting me into some kind of temporary comatose state." He looked up at Tycho and saw pain in his eyes that reflected his own. "We have to get to him. He's..." He had no words to convey to them the misery he had felt. Mirax's sobs became louder, so he stepped out of the bed and took her up in his arms, unable to give any word of comfort to her. He had none for himself.

Ajene broke away from Tycho and walked to the door, but did not leave the room.

The grief and sadness in Tycho's eyes quickly hardened into anger. "We're going to get him back. And someone is going to pay dearly for what they've put him through. I swear it!"

Corran, holding tightly onto Mirax, looked over at him. "I hope so."

Ajene ran from the room, unable to listen any longer. 


	20. Chapter 20

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**20**

Heblon sat in a chair next to Wedge's bed. He watched as the pilot struggled through the pain that wracked his body and the fever that clouded his mind. It had been several hours since Wedge had stopped breathing and nearly died. Heblon had done everything he could to ease his suffering and break the fever, but every time they seemed to take a step forward, Wedge would take two steps back. It was as if he had given up, and his body was following his mind.

He had been through so much in the last few days that Heblon was surprised he hadn't succumbed sooner. But he was constantly amazed at the hidden reserves that Wedge had and hoped that he would continue to surprise him.

With the medical supplies that he had on hand, Heblon had done his best with little in the way of results. After much reflection, he decided to set medicine aside and try a new approach.

He had been quizzing Wedge for the last ten minutes or so, trying to draw him out. He watched as the younger man fought to find the answer to the simplest of questions. When he couldn't, he seemed to withdraw even further within himself, but Heblon kept trying.

"What's your name?"

"I don't know. Please just go away," he begged in a small voice.

"What is your name?" Heblon asked again.

"No, no, no. Leave me alone." His voice cracked as he spoke, and he tried to cover his ears with his hands.

Heblon leaned forward and adopted the tone he used on his stormtroopers. Maybe he could get an answer out of reflex. Wedge was, after all, a military man. "I asked you a question, soldier. What...is...your...name?"

That seemed to get his attention. His hands dropped from his ears and he seemed to pull himself together. "Wedge. Wedge Antilles."

"Open your eyes."

Wedge's eyes opened about halfway, and they glanced around the room. He shifted position slightly and winced at the discomfort the movement caused. Heblon saw blood on the blanket that must have leaked through the bandages on his back. Although they had been soaked in bacta, he knew that it would take a few more hours until they would begin the healing process.

He pressed on with his questions, acutely aware that time was slipping away.

"Who were your parents?"

"J-Jagged and Zena."

"Where were you born? Where were you raised?"

Wedge frowned in concentration. "C...Corellia. I was raised in...Gus Treta."

"What's your rank?"

"It's...I don't know." The brown eyes became troubled, but at least he was trying.

"Yes, you do. Who are you?" Heblon added a military edge to his voice, as much as he could manage. "Name, rank, serial number!"

He watched fear flash in Wedge's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by determination. "Wedge Antilles. General. Serial number 8470522."

"What is your occupation? What do you do?"

"Fly X-wings."

Heblon smiled at the understatement. "With what unit?"

"Rogue Squadron."

"Who is your wingman?"

"Flight Officer Rekdon Pinkar."

He was sounding more and more lucid all the time. _I can't believe this is working_!

"Who's Ajene?" Heblon slipped the question in, hoping that it would shake Wedge up a bit.

"Ajene? She's got green eyes...and red curls?"

Wedge raised his eyebrows in surprise, and Heblon laughed. "She must be hard to forget."

"Yeah...she is..." He smiled at the picture of her he'd obviously just discovered in his memory. And the realization that maybe he did have something to live for after all.

"Who am I?"

"You're Heblon, a good friend of mine...whether you like it or not." His gaze was still a little unsteady, but he met Heblon's surprised look.

"Okay, that's enough for now. You're getting dopey again. Here, drink some of this." He raised the pilot into a semi-sitting position and held a cup of liquid protein drink to his lips. So far it was the only thing, other than bacta, that Wedge could keep down. He was weak from his injuries, but he also hadn't eaten or drank very much in the last three days. Heblon knew he was dehydrated and would need to get some liquid into him.

He leaned in close to Wedge and whispered so that no one else, including those possibly monitoring the cell, would be able to hear. "You have to keep your strength up if you want to survive until your unit gets here. You came very close to dying earlier. Please don't do that to me again."

"I'll try not to."

Heblon was happy to hear a little of the spirit return to his voice. Since he had him talking again, there was another question that he had wanted to ask him. "Who is Corran?"

Wedge looked at him, a little confused, over the rim of the glass that he had now taken into his own shaking hands. "Where did you hear that name?"

"Well, you actually did die before. Your heart had stopped and you weren't breathing. I had to work on you for a while to bring you back. I expect that you were as close to death as you will ever get without actually staying dead. When you came back, you yelled out that name."

Wedge lay down, on his left side this time, but did not fall unconscious as he had just about every other time before. Heblon could see that he was thinking hard about something. His face twisted as he tried to access memories that had been denied him the last day or two. When he spoke, he was finally starting to sound more like himself. But what he said left Heblon wondering if the fever hadn't affected his brain.

"Corran spoke to me last night."

Heblon looked at him curiously. "What do you mean? Explain that to me."

"At the time when you say that I was dead, I think I felt Corran calling me back, trying to convince me that it wasn't my time." He took a deep breath. Speaking for any length of time was obviously hard on him. "He didn't want me to go and when I did come back, I held onto him as long as I could. He was sharing my pain, and it was the first moment of relief I had felt in days. But he managed to break free, and I remember trying to reach out for him. But I don't remember...calling out his name." He clutched at his side, a spasm of pain hitting him. Heblon managed to seize the glass before it fell to the metal floor of the cell.

After several minutes, the cramp seemed to ease and Wedge took several long breaths. Heblon thought over what Wedge had just said. "I've heard people talk about near death experiences before. It's just the mind playing tricks on you. A lack of oxygen can do strange things to brain cells."

Wedge shook his head solemnly. "You don't know Corran... He has some power over the Force. But I didn't realize that he had that kind of control. I really think that he was here with me last night." He looked over at Heblon as the older man shook his head violently, then visibly trembled as a shiver ran through him. "What is it?"

"You say that this person was _with _you last night?"

Wedge nodded slightly.

"While I was trying to bring you back, I had the uneasy feeling that there was someone in the room with us, and that they were looking for you through me. It gave me one hell of a headache. And I thought I heard..." He considered it, then shook his head again to clear the bizarre thoughts that were running through it. "Nah, I'm just imagining things."

"I wouldn't bet on it." Wedge started to cough, and Heblon thought the protein drink might make a reappearance. He doubled over in pain, his arms tightly wound around his belly. "Don't take this personally, but I would rather be anywhere but here," he grunted.

Heblon reached over and placed his hand over Wedge's forehead. He was still warm and a little sweaty, but his fever seemed to have broken. "I'm pretty sure that you still have some internal bleeding, and the injuries to your back are pretty severe. There is probably some fluid in your lungs and you've lost a lot of blood, which will weaken you further. But you are going to live through this, Wedge. You have my promise on that."

Wedge's hand reached up and his thin fingers wrapped around Heblon's wrist. He gave it a light squeeze. "Thank you."

For the first time, Heblon didn't feel uncomfortable at the gratitude Wedge was showing him. He gave him as big a smile as he could manage. "You're welcome. Now rest."

Wedge replied with a weak smile of his own, then closed his eyes. 


	21. Chapter 21

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**21**

It was just before midnight in the detention bay, and Heblon watched over Wedge as he slept, getting as much rest as he could in his condition. But he seemed to be sleeping more and more as time passed.

Heblon rose, getting to his feet stiffly. It was time to move out.

He picked his comlink out of one of the pouches that usually hung around his waist. The belt was now dangling from the back of his chair along with his jacket. He thumbed the device on and called two of his stormtroopers into the cell. Only a few minutes passed before they descended into the room.

"I'm going to my quarters to get cleaned up a bit. I'll be gone about a half hour. When I return, I'll bring the replacement guards. Watch him and inform me of any changes." He turned and pointed at the figure on the bed. It was clear that Wedge wasn't going anywhere. "Is that understood?"

The two men nodded their understanding of the order, their helmets clicking against their chest plates as they did. They took up positions on either side of the door, standing more or less at attention, facing the bunk.

Heblon slipped on his uniform jacket and cap, left the cell, and briskly walked through the hallways to the exit of the garrison. He arrived at the double doors leading to the outside, and noted with some relief that one of the huge metal doors remained open.

The rightmost door was usually open to give the troopers on guard easy access to the refresher stations in the garrison, but he had worried that maybe tonight, with his luck, would be the night they would close it. He knew that to leave it open was a threat to security, but over the ten or so years that the Empire had occupied the planet, security had gotten slack. Since Tchlinda had moved in, she had never had to face any kind of a threat to her power.

_Until now,_ he thought to himself.

He glanced as stealthily as he could around the door jamb, watching for the guards. He saw two troopers approaching from his right and ducked quickly behind the closed door. He waited until he heard them round the corner, then slipped around the door and the far side of the building.

Heblon kept to the shadows and crept fifty or so meters towards the rear of the garrison, his cap pulled down to cover as much of his face as possible. He froze as a stormtrooper appeared from the corner he had just rounded, but the trooper turned on his heel and returned the way he had come, covering his own ground. Heblon was thankful that his dark uniform blended well with the shadows.

Reaching the back of the garrison, he stopped and listened. He couldn't hear any movement near him, so after waiting another heartbeat, he made his way across the twenty meters of open ground to the bushes, where two men waited for him. They wore full stormtrooper armor, provided by the Rebels, with their helmets resting at their feet.

As he approached, Kell Tainer's blaster rifle slowly rose and aimed at his chest. The Imperial Lieutenant held his hands up where they could be seen and continued towards them. "It's me," he whispered.

He saw the blaster lower, although it was still aimed in his general direction. He quietly made his way between two bushes to join them and was amazed that they could remain so hidden, even in the bright white armor they were wearing.

"Are we set?" Face asked quietly.

"Yes, we'll just have to wait a few minutes, then the guards will change. In the shuffle, I should be able to slip you in. If we're stopped, leave everything to me unless it really gets out of hand. In that case, I leave the decision of what to do up to you, since you are the experts."

Face looked at Kell. "You're the expert, right?"

Kell just shrugged. "I thought you were."

"Oops," Face said apologetically in a low whisper.

Heblon just shook his head. "You'll stand guard over Wedge until the ceremony tomorrow morning. I've arranged the schedule so no one will come to replace you."

Just then there was the sound of distant voices as two replacement stormtroopers approached the two on guard. As they conversed for a couple of minutes, the three men lurking in the bushes took advantage of their distraction. Using the trees and shadows as cover, they made it as far as the building. Then, out in the open, Heblon straightened and headed for the main doors, two stormtroopers acting as his guard.

Just before they came within view of the door, the quartet of troopers ahead of them split and two headed into the garrison. The remaining two headed down the far side of the building, still talking back and forth.

Heblon motioned with his hand for the two men to head for the door. They slipped through the entrance moments before the two guards came back around the corner and spotted Heblon.

"Freeze." Heblon stopped dead in his tracks, now unable to get through the door unseen. The two troopers approached him, blasters aimed high at his head. "Identify yourself."

"Lieutenant Tonar Heblon, _Querulous_."

The blaster rifles dropped, and he gave a silent prayer of thanks. They couldn't have seen the two troopers go through the door ahead of him.

"Sorry, sir. We didn't realize it was you. You shouldn't be out here."

"I just came out for a breath of fresh air. Being stuck in that cell, breathing the same air as that rebel trash, can be unpleasant. But I'd better get back before I'm missed. Return to your duties."

"Yes, sir." They continued by him and headed for the other side of the building.

He stepped through the door and almost right into Kell, who had been covering him with his blaster from just inside the entranceway. Heblon slumped against the wall, wiping at the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand. "I'm not cut out for this kind of thing."

Face came forward. "We have to keep moving. Lead the way," his voice buzzed through the comm in his helmet.

Heblon nodded and stepped past them, heading down the hall. Both Face and Kell fell in behind him, one to either side, in a rather impressive imitation of stormtroopers on escort duty.

Fortunately, they did not have too far to go before they reached the detention center. Because of the hour, the corridors were nearly empty, and anyone they did pass did not even give them a second look. When they reached the cell, as agreed, they let him do all the talking.

Heblon walked into the small chamber ahead of Face and Kell. The two troopers just inside the door snapped to attention as he did. He turned to face them, gave them a quick salute, then motioned to the door. "Dismissed. These two will take over."

"Yes, sir." They turned and left. Heblon closed the door, then leaned his forehead against it. _I'm too old for this!_

Face pulled a small device out of a pouch on his belt. It was a little smaller than a datapad, and there were more buttons and lights on it. He walked slowly around the cell with it, studying the data intently. Kell began searching the walls and ceiling for holocams.

Face took off his helmet and held it under his right arm. He shook his head, sticking his sweat drenched hair to his forehead. "I don't believe it. The cell is clear. There doesn't seem to be any listening devices at all. You would think that they would want to monitor him somehow." He shook his head again in confusion. He looked over at Kell, who was running a hand over the wall next to the refresher unit. "Report."

Kell pulled off his helmet and lay it on the floor next to the door. "All clear for holocams, as far as I can tell. Even if they were hidden, you would have detected the power spikes with your scanner. I think we're in the clear."

Kell walked over to the bunk where Wedge lay, curled up into a tight ball. He knelt by the bunk and looked at Wedge. Heblon realized what a sight he must have been to the two men. He had watched Wedge slowly deteriorate over the last few days, but all they saw was his current state compared to their memory of him.

Kell looked over at Heblon. "Will he be able to take part in the plan tomorrow?"

"I think so. I've got something planned just in case, though."

Wedge stirred and his eyes flickered open. He looked confused for a moment, probably because he was used to Heblon being the only other person in the room. Then faint recognition passed through his red rimmed eyes. "Kell?" he whispered.

"Yeah. How you feeling, General?"

Wedge coughed, then winced. "To be honest, I've felt better."

"I would love to be able to tell you that the cavalry has arrived, but that will have to wait a few hours. But they are on their way."

"I was beginning to think..." He took in a deep breath that sounded distinctly painful "...that you had forgotten all about me."

Face leaned over, put an ungloved hand over Wedge's, and gave it a reassuring squeeze. It was the only part of him that didn't seem to be cut or bruised. "You know that we couldn't do that. Besides, Elscol Loro says you owe her twenty credits."

He closed his eyes again, but a smile crept onto his face. "El's here? Well, tell her she'll have to come in here to get the money."

Heblon stepped over to Kell and tapped his shoulder. "You should stand guard outside the cell for a while. If there are no troopers out there, someone may get suspicious. Leave your comm on my frequency, two eight five. If anyone approaches you, signal me."

"Right." He gave Wedge an encouraging smile, then picked up his helmet and blaster. He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

Heblon turned towards Face. "Since you're here, I'll need you to help me turn him onto his stomach. I have to change his bandages."

Face put down his helmet and removed his other glove. He went to the foot of the bunk while Heblon remained at the top.

"Wedge, on three we're going to roll you over as gently as possible. Okay?" The pilot just nodded. When Heblon got to two, he took in a deep breath and held it. "Three."

Heblon supported Wedge's shoulders while Face brought his legs and hips over. Wedge grunted through clenched teeth, then was quiet, the only sound in the cell his laborious breathing. Face flinched when he saw the amount of blood in the bunk.

"Hand me that basin at your feet. The empty one." Heblon pointed to the small plastine container and Face handed it to him, but his eyes were fixed on Wedge as Heblon slowly peeled off layer after layer of bloody bandages and dropped them into the basin. When he removed the last layer, Face swore softly.

"Not pretty, is it." Heblon said, a colossal understatement. Face just shook his head. "Talk to him while I replace the bandages. This is going to be painful," he said quietly.

Face went to the head of the bunk, where Wedge held onto the mattress with white-knuckled fists. He sat on the floor so that he was at his friend's eye level. "You know, you're lucky that you've got Heblon as your doctor. If Ton Phanan were here, he would have slapped bandages on you and told you to get back to work saving the galaxy."

Wedge's face contorted, but he let out a strangled laugh. "Yeah....ungh...he would have enjoyed this too much."

Face smiled at the memory of his former squadmate. Even though Ton had been killed two years before, sometimes the pain still threatened to overwhelm him. Phanan had been a doctor who had been pressed into military service, much like Heblon. Except his bedside manner was a little more...unique. They had become good friends in the short time they had served together.

"Do you know the Rogues have been searching high and low for you? You're not an easy man to track down. They're not going to let you forget all the trouble they went to. You'll be buying them drinks for weeks, so it's a good thing you make a general's salary."

Heblon stood. "There. That should do until we can get him to a proper medical facility." Face swallowed hard as he watched Heblon wash blood from his hands in a basin of water. Wedge's shoulders went slack, his hands letting go of the mattress. He closed his eyes, and his breathing became more regular as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Face stood again and walked over to Heblon. He drew him aside as the Lieutenant dried his hands on a rag. "He doesn't look like he is going to be in any shape to move in the morning, never mind take part in a running light fight. How are we going to get him to the _Skate_?"

Heblon pulled a vial of sparkling amber liquid from his belt pouch. "With this."

"What is it?" Face took it from him and held it up to the light.

"It's Felladon, a stimulant. I could give that to Wedge just before the ceremony tomorrow, and it would give him the boost he needs to get him through the rescue."

Face narrowed his eyes as he looked back at Heblon. "I hear a _but _coming."

"_But_, he is very weak. Under normal circumstances, I would never consider administering it to anyone in his condition. But I don't think we have a choice."

"What would happen if we did give it to him?"

"Once the stimulant is injected, he'll have about thirty to forty minutes of increased energy. There'll be enough adrenaline flowing through his body to power his X-wing. But when it wears off, his weakened system won't be able to compensate. At best, he'll go into shock. At worst, his heart will stop and he could die. If we don't get him to a medical facility within three or four minutes of that happening, we would lose him as surely as if we'd let Tchlinda keep him."

Face looked over to where Wedge was sleeping, still lying on his belly. He knew as well as Heblon that he wouldn't be able to get out of the bunk without help. If they were going to get him off the planet, they were going to have to do something. Maybe even something drastic.

Face sighed. This was not going to be easy. He handed the vial back to the Imperial Lieutenant, and he tucked it back into the pouch on his belt. "I can't let you give him that stuff unless he knows the risk."

Shock and something like anger washed across Heblon's face. "I wouldn't administer it without his knowledge. I've kept him alive this long, I won't just shoot this into him and hope for the best." He rubbed at his eyes with his fingers. "We'll wait as long as possible and monitor his condition. We still have about six hours until the ceremony is scheduled to start, we'll let him rest until about a half-hour before. Then we'll decide."

Heblon stretched, and tendons popped in his back. He sat down stiffly on a chair, the only other piece of furniture in the room. He stifled a yawn with his left hand.

Face bent down in front of him, his hands on his knees. "How long has it been since you slept?"

"A couple of days, I guess," Heblon answered reluctantly.

"Why don't you get some rest. Kell and I will watch over Wedge. You'll be no good to him or us tomorrow if you're exhausted."

"All right. But you wake me if anyone approaches the cell or if Wedge needs me. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir!" Face saluted him sarcastically. "You know, technically I outrank you. I am a Captain."

"Not here, you're not," Heblon responded sleepily.

Face chuckled quietly and slid down the wall to a crouch at Wedge's beside. Heblon was already fast asleep. 


	22. Chapter 22

**22**

The transport ship _Forzani's Pride _dropped through the atmosphere of Arramsetti III, carrying Elscol, Sixtus, and Ajene one step closer to their goal.

Their destination was the city where Wedge was being held, Jimmarra. The ground troops from the three capital ships would only arrive with the main force. Until then, they would have to make do with Elscol's band of Rebels.

They did not expect any trouble making it onto the planet, as the transport ship was well known to Arramsetti Traffic Control. That and Elscol had bribed their commander a large amount of credits.

Once they landed at the spaceport, they cleared customs with the fake IDs that Elscol and Booster had managed to create for them aboard the _Errant Venture._ They all went through separately so as not to look too suspicious and had agreed to meet an hour later at the cantina where Elscol had been approached by Heblon.

Elscol was the first to arrive and she made contact with her own people in the crowd. From them she received word that the first and second stages of their plan had been accomplished. The rest of the team slowly assembled, and she noted that it was about an hour and a half before their small fleet would arrive.

In a back room, as they put the finishing touches on their planned assault, Elscol glanced at the faces of the small group she had gathered. Sixtus she knew well. They had been a team for more years than she cared to remember, and she knew she could trust him with her life. Most of the other members of her group had been with her for a while and she knew she could trust them as well.

Then there was Ajene Tuvora. The redheaded woman sat apart from them, her eyes dead and her fear for Wedge's life hidden behind a carefully practiced mask of professionalism. Elscol did not know her at all and was unsure how she would react under the pressure of this particular mission. Although Tycho had vouched for her, and his opinion carried a great deal of weight with her.

Elscol unfolded a diagram and lay it on the table in front of her. It showed a rough outline of the plaza where the ceremony was to take place. At the center of the map was a large square representing Tchlinda's monument. Appropriately, an X marked the spot where Wedge's fighter had been lowered into position. On the left was the Moff's palace, the balcony where they expected Tchlinda to appear marked by a semi-circle. To one side of that rather large building was the small garrison where Wedge was a prisoner.

"Okay. What men I have will be spread throughout the plaza in various areas since we don't know exactly where they will bring Wedge out from. We know that our contact should be with him and ready to put their end of the plan into action without any help from us."

She stopped her briefing and glanced over at Ajene. "Major, I think it only fair to tell you that we have some additional help in there with Wedge. I didn't reveal this at the Rogue mission briefing because I wasn't sure that they would be able to get into the garrison. But my people here have told me that they have successfully infiltrated it with the help of Lieutenant Heblon. Two of the stormtroopers guarding him at the moment are with Intelligence. Wraith Group to be precise."

There was a spark of life behind the green eyes. "How did you manage to get two of Wraith Group onto the planet? They aren't part of Starfighter Command. Who sent them?"

"I can't tell you that. All that I can say is that they aren't here under orders. It's more of a _rogue_ operation."

Ajene didn't seem to be content with that answer, but kept any other comments or questions she may have had to herself. Elscol continued with the outline of their plan.

"The Wraiths, Kell Tainer and Face Loran, are Wedge's insurance policy. They are there to provide cover for Heblon and Wedge as they try and make their way towards the landing area, here, behind the palace." Elscol pointed to a piece of open ground on her map, on the far side of the Moff's palace.

"Kell managed to set up some explosive charges along the sides of the plaza and garrison yesterday. Assuming they aren't discovered, I have the remote that will set them off. Once they go up, we make our move. A sniper will be set up across from the plaza on top of a building and will try to take out any other stormtroopers in Wedge's immediate area once the shooting starts."

"I'm going after Wedge." The group turned around to look at Ajene. There was a look of determination in her eyes that spelled out what would happen to anyone who got in her way.

"Fine. You will take up a position at the base of the monument. Wedge is bound to be taken past there, assuming that his X-wing will be used in the ceremony. Once he does pass you and is near, signal me over the comlink. That's when I'll set off the explosives. You can then form up with Kell, Face, and Heblon to evacuate Wedge from the area. Your goal will be the landing area at the rear of the Moff's palace. That is where the _Skate_ will come in to pick you up."

"The rest of us are going to blend into the crowd and get as close to the balcony with Tchlinda and Turpa as possible. When the action starts, if we can pick them off, all the better. But my group will be heading into the palace should they try to escape that way. Remember that there will be a lot of stormtroopers around, so keep your heads down."

"We'll get Wedge back or die trying." The icy tone in Sixtus' voice sent a chill through her.

"We haven't failed at liberating a planet yet, and with fewer resources. Freeing one man should be easy." She lay her hand over Sixtus's. "We have an hour to be in place before the fleet and the Rogues arrive. Does anyone have any last minute questions or comments?"

There were shakes of heads all around.

"All right then. Let's get moving."

* * * * * * * *

Once again at her window overlooking the plaza, Moff Lathel Tchlinda stretched luxuriously. Below, the monument to her sons gleamed brilliantly in the morning sunlight, promising a beautiful day. And, if her plans went well, it would be a truly satisfying one as well. Stretching again, she could think of no reason why her plans would go otherwise. Not even Rogue Squadron would be able to stop her.

The previous day, Turpa had contacted Admiral Tesh Dorass, Commander of the Imperial forces in the Qsartun System. Admiral Dorass had at his command two Victory Class Star Destroyers and one Imperial Class Star Destroyer. Tchlinda had wanted one of those ships.

From what Turpa had told her, Admiral Dorass had a secret. He was an ambitious man, always with an eye to his personal fortune. In order to increase his wealth and power, he would deal with anyone who could give him what he wanted. Including the Rebels.

How Turpa had discovered his dealings with the Rebel Alliance, Tchlinda did not care. All that she knew was that they had him within their power. If the Imperial Council ever found out about his traitorous ways, he would be executed. And the only thing that Dorass feared more than losing his wealth was losing his life.

Not more than five minutes after contacting him, Turpa had convinced the Admiral to send one of his Victory Class ships, the _Retribution_, to Arramsetti III. It would be in orbit within the hour. With the addition of the _Retribution_ and its TIE Fighters, Tchlinda had at her disposal two capital ships as well as six full squadrons of fighters. It was more than enough to take on anything Rogue Squadron would be able to scrounge up, including the two Mon Calamari cruisers they had faced in their last battle.

Turpa came over and stood behind her, massaging her shoulders and kissing the nape of her neck. "Well, my dear, the day you've waited and worked for has finally arrived. Soon your sons will have their revenge, with the decaying corpse of their killer entombed in their shrine."

"Yes, Osiel. I have looked forward to this day for a very long time. Revenge will be extremely sweet indeed. I wonder if Lieutenant Heblon has managed to revive Antilles. I am afraid that I lost control in our last session and I was beginning to believe that he would not live for the ceremony. Shall we visit the detention level to check on his progress?"

"If you wish." He held out his arm and they headed down to the detention bay, five levels below.

As the couple exited the private turbolift close to the detention cell, the two stormtroopers standing guard snapped to attention.

"Lieutenant Heblon?" Turpa called.

"Sir?" The big Lieutenant stepped out of the cell assigned to General Antilles and came to attention. He saluted briefly, then let his hands hang at his sides. He was not wearing his uniform jacket or cap.

"Have you been able to bring him around at all?" Turpa asked. Tchlinda moved down into the cell, just far enough to see the prisoner.

"No, Admiral. The best I could do was get a little water down him so he'll live a little longer. The interrogation was apparently too much for him. See for yourself, sir."

Heblon stepped aside and both Turpa and Tchlinda entered fully into the cell. Tchlinda looked closely at the pilot who lay on the bunk, unmoving. His breathing was labored and his forehead glistened with sweat. She stooped and caressed his face with her open hand. "A pity. He's about to die a slow and well-earned death, and he doesn't even know it." She turned and looked at Heblon. "Do you have his flightsuit?

He nodded towards the bright orange garment that lay piled in a heap in a corner of the cell. Tchlinda moved over to it and picked it up. She studied it for a moment before handing it to the Lieutenant. It was still covered in Wedge's blood from when Turpa had beaten him.

"You know what to do?"

"Yes, Madame Tchlinda. It will be done exactly as you've ordered."

"Very well. Come, Osiel. We have a celebration to prepare for."

* * * * * * * *

Heblon remained at attention and watched as the two Imperials left the cell. Once they had turned the corner, he dropped the flightsuit and sank to his knees. His chest began to burn and he reminded himself to breathe. A stormtrooper came in and crouched beside him.

Face removed his helmet laid it beside Heblon. "You okay?"

Heblon nodded.

"Sorry I couldn't warn you that they were coming. They popped out of nowhere, and I didn't want to risk being overheard."

"That's all right. As long as they don't suspect anything."

"They seemed too pleased with themselves to notice anyone else. I assume that was Tchlinda."

"Yeah, that's her."

Face shivered. "I don't remember the last time I saw a more cruel couple."

"Heblon?"

Both men turned to look at Wedge, who was groggily trying to sit up.

"I'm here." Face gave Heblon a hand and he climbed to his feet. He moved over to the bunk and helped Wedge to sit up. But as soon as he let him go, he slumped back down onto the bunk.

Face frowned. "Well, this is going well so far."

Heblon put a hand on the pilot's forehead. "He's still feverish, but not as bad as before. The bacta must be starting to take effect."

"But not soon enough." Face looked over at Heblon. "You had better tell him."

"Tell him what?" Wedge said as he managed to lift himself up on one elbow. Heblon noted that he kept one hand protectively on his belly.

Heblon sat on the edge of the bunk beside him, Face standing over his left shoulder. "Tchlinda will be sending for you in a little while. Her ceremony is scheduled to start in an hour. Your friends and their fleet are going to be here soon, and Elscol is most likely in the plaza at this moment with her group. I need to know if you are able to do what we talked about."

As if in answer to the question, Wedge's strength gave out, his arm buckled and he dropped to the bunk again. He landed on his back and his whole body tensed with the pain it caused. "I don't really have a choice, do I?" he managed to grunt.

Face came closer to Wedge, crouching by his bunk. "Wedge, Heblon has a stimulant he could give you. It might give you enough strength to help fight your way to the _Skate_. But in your condition, it could also kill you. I wanted you to understand the risk before we let you make the decision."

Wedge glanced from one man to the other. "Face, if I stay here, Tchlinda will kill me for sure. Do what you have to...I trust you."

Face looked at Heblon. "What time is it?"

"Just after ten."

"Wait until the last possible moment, then give him the medication."

They both looked at Wedge. He was unconscious again.


	23. Chapter 23

****

**23**

Commander Jarice Cright stood on the bridge of the _Querulous_ and smiled. He loved being in command, albeit temporarily.

_This is what I am destined for._

The one great disappointment of Cright's life was that his position on the _Querulous_ was pretty much a dead end assignment. The Arramsetti System, with its four backwater planets, three of which were not even inhabited, offered nothing of importance that would allow a man to show his worth. And Admiral Turpa was not the kind of commanding officer who gave his junior officers much of a chance to shine, preferring instead to further his own career at every opportunity.

"Sir," a young Lieutenant's voice squeaked, as he called up from the sensor screen before him.

"What is it, Mr. Brue?" Cright asked.

"Sir, we've got something here. It just appeared on our scopes."

"Is it the _Retribution_?"

"Sir...It appears to be..."

The answer died on his lips as the entire main viewport was filled with the 1,600 meter long arrow shape of an Imperial Class Star Destroyer as she reverted to real space. It was immediately followed by two Mon Calamari Cruisers. Alarm klaxons started blaring and people automatically assumed their battle stations as Commander Cright stared open mouthed at the viewport.

"Sir? What are your orders?" Lieutenant Brue's voice moved up an octave.

"Uhh...Launch all TIEs."

"Yes, sir!"

"Come 'round and prepare to engage." Cright began mentally reciting rules of battle, trying to remember what to do. "Inform Admiral Turpa of the situation."

"Sir! There's an incoming message."

"Communications, pipe it up here."

A holo appeared in front of Cright at the forward holocomm station. It was of an older man, impossibly large, even in the holo, a red optical implant where his left eye should have been. "_Querulous_, this is Captain Booster Terrik of the _Errant Venture_. You are outgunned and outflanked. Surrender now or face the consequences."

Cright looked at the holo image of Terrik, then back out the viewport, weighing his options. A victory in battle would be the one way of assuring career advancement, and this_ was _what he'd trained for. He'd prove once and for all just how much command potential he had.

"Sorry, Terrik. Not today." He slashed his hand across his throat, the universal gesture for the communications officer to cut the signal. "Fire control, concentrate all forward guns on that Star Destroyer. All other turbolasers and ion cannons on the cruisers. Concentrate on knocking a hole in their shields, then go for the main drives and shield generators. Watch out for enemy fighters because they are bound to appear at some point. Until they do, spread our fighters out in standard covering deployment." He looked over his shoulder at Lieutenant Brue, who hadn't moved. "Now, gentlemen!"

"Y...Yessir." Brue's voice didn't sound at all convinced of the wisdom of his orders, but he moved quickly to comply.

* * * * * * * *

On the bridge of the _Errant Venture_, Booster Terrik shook his head in disbelief at the data scrolling by on the sensor screens. "They're going to take us on. Prepare to take fire!"

He turned to his First Officer, a Mon Calamari named Azzeh. "I want to take her in one piece if possible. Tell the _Paladin _and _Provider_ to target their navigational deflector and the shield generators. Maybe having their bow slagged will knock some sense into them."

"Yessir." The officer gave the broad, open-mouthed Mon Calamari grin, and went to work.

Booster looked at his wrist chrono, calculating the time until the arrival of the fighters. Beneath his feet, he felt the thuds as the _Venture_ began to take fire from the _Querulous _and her TIE fighter escort. Then he felt his ship return fire with the few active guns they had. There was a bright flash as the Mon Cals opened up with their turbolasers.

He watched as his lasers and those of his escort hit the bow shields of the Destroyer. They began to glow and waver under the onslaught. Then, as the shields flashed and collapsed, the laser fire burned into the armored hull of the ship. Wispy threads of vaporized metal began to spread from the bow.

Still, the _Querulous_ continued to fire. But she was turning the wrong way, and at least half of her turbolaser batteries faced down towards the planet. The lasers that were pointed in the _Venture's_ direction caused minimal damage to a few of her compartments. Damage control was handling the problem efficiently, and their shields were holding.

"Azzeh?" Booster checked his data screen again. "We don't have time to play with this idiot. Have the cruisers shut him down. Use our ion cannon to try and help take him out."

He looked out the viewport at the other ship. "_Querulous_, you had your one chance. I won't give you another."

His words trailed off as another Victory Class Star Destroyer jumped into the system. He looked at Azzeh, whose large eyes mirrored his own thoughts.

"I think we're in trouble."

* * * * * * * *

The _Venture's _bow ion cannon fired wave after wave of blue energy. The two Mon Calamari cruisers swept over the _Querulous_, one below and one above, firing salvo after salvo of energy into her shields. Cright forced down the panic that had begun to rise in him, even after an Ensign announced that they had lost their bow shields. "Lieutenant, roll us and present them with our undamaged shields_._ Try and get the _Retribution_ between us and the Star Destroyer."

"Aye, sir."

As the large ship began a painfully slow roll, the ion cannons on one of the Mon Cal ships, the _Provider_, broke through the aft shield and poured energy over the hull of the _Querulous_. The result was immediate and breathtaking as blue lightening slammed into the Star Destroyer, where it crackled and skittered the entire length, height and breadth of the ship. Electronic systems shut down, screens went blank, controls ceased to function, communications quit. Nothing worked. Throughout the entire ship, there was the smell of burning circuitry. They were effectively dead in space. But the arrival of the _Retribution_ brought them some hope that they would be able to restart all of the essential systems before the _Venture_ could finish them off.

Coughing as smoke filled the bridge, Commander Cright fought to keep control. "Mr. Brue. Try to bring up the emergency comm channel. I need to speak with the Captain of the _Retribution _and Admiral Turpa right now."

"Yessir. We're on it." The Lieutenant's voice was filled with fear.

* * * * * * * *

Ajene Tuvora made her way through the crowd and approached the rear of the black granite monument. She studied it with disgust.

As monuments went, it was fairly well done. The workmanship and design were not really that bad, if a bit overly dramatic. It was when she considered the intent of the piece that it became harsh and ugly. Instead of honoring the two men it was supposed to memorialize, it was to be used as an instrument of revenge on a man who had probably saved millions, if not billions of lives by destroying a weapon of mass destruction.

Moving around to the front of the shrine, she swallowed hard when she saw Wedge's X-wing sitting there. She'd stood this close to it, just a short time ago, and kissed him goodbye. Now it waited for him one final time. She shivered at the thought, and anger began to build within her.

Turning away from the monument, she checked her wrist chrono and looked around the plaza. It was already somewhat filled with people, and she smiled at the fact that she recognized a significant number of them as members of the underground that she'd met.

Her hand went to the blaster concealed beneath the dark cloak she wore over her nondescript flightsuit. She checked to make sure it was secure and moved into a better position to wait. Across the plaza, she saw Elscol and Sixtus do the same thing. She also checked the vibrobalde strapped to her right forearm under her sleeve.

Without warning an Imperial March blared from hidden speakers, and the plaza was filled with the sound of marching booted feet. The crowd parted as a full compliment of stormtroopers from the garrison marched into the plaza and took their places.

The ceremony was about to begin.


	24. Chapter 24

**24**

Deep within the garrison, Face and Kell stood guard on either side of the hatch leading to Wedge's cell. After Tchlinda and Turpa's surprise visit earlier that morning, they had decided to keep an extra close watch for any Imperials who may drop in on them. They had settled on an audio signal to alert Heblon should anyone approach.

Inside the cell, Heblon leaned over Wedge, shaking him lightly to try to wake him. Each time it got harder to revive the man. It had taken both Face and Heblon to get a limp Wedge into his orange flightsuit.

He stopped and stood straight. He could have sworn that he heard music off in the distance. He moved out the door to where Kell and Face stood, fastening his uniform jacket. "Did you hear that?"

"Are you kidding? I can't hear a thing in this helmet," Kell replied.

"I thought I heard..." Heblon strained to hear the elusive strains of music. "It's an Imperial March. The ceremony must have started."

"You had better get in there and get that injection ready. We'll give you as much warning as we can when they come for him." Face's helmet turned from side to side as he scanned the hallway.

Heblon headed back into the cell. He pulled the small vial from the pouch at his waist and searched through the medical materials scattered throughout the cell for a syringe. He prepared the dose and lay it beside the bunk.

A few moments later, a low beep emanated from his comlink. It was the signal that someone was nearing the cell. He took Wedge's arm and searched quickly for a vein. Finding one, he jabbed the needle into it, shooting the contents of the syringe into his system.

It took only a few seconds to take affect. Wedge's eyes shot open and he sat up suddenly. Heblon held him back. "They're coming for you. They expect you to be incapacitated. You know what to do."

He nodded and lay back down, closing his eyes. He did a very convincing job of looking like he was at death's door.

_Of course, he's looked that way for days._

Heblon headed out into the hallway and met the six stormtroopers waiting for him.

* * * * * * * *

Moff Tchlinda stood on the balcony overlooking the plaza. She smiled out over the crowd of people assembled. She was immensely pleased at what she saw. It was truly a gathering worthy of the event, with nearly every inhabitant of Jimmarra was present. That they'd not been given the choice of refusing the invitation was of little concern to her. This was the moment she'd waited for, and she wanted a large audience to witness her triumph over Wedge Antilles.

She approached the edge of the platform, where a portable communications system had been set up. "People of Arramsetti," her voice echoed through the plaza. "Today marks the achievement of an important and long anticipated goal. Today is the day when a murderer is brought to justice. Not only is this pilot guilty of the murders of my sons, but also of the murders of members of some of your own families. When the Rebel Alliance launched its cowardly attack on our Glorious Emperor at Endor, it brought grief to many of our homes."

"Now this man, General Wedge Antilles, will be made to pay for his crimes." She gave a signal, and two stormtroopers appeared from the garrison, supporting Wedge's semi-conscious figure between them. They were escorted by six stormtroopers, three on each side. The troopers hauled him toward the monument, his feet dragging on the ferrocrete. Just behind the stormtrooper escort was Lieutenant Heblon, following them at a quick march.

Tchlinda could feel the eyes of her sons on her as the man who had been the cause of their death approached his own. A thrill ran through her body as the event she had dreamt about, had planned for so long, was about to take place.

The stormtroopers carried the prisoner past her balcony, and she had a close look at him. He had been dressed in his bloodied flightsuit as she had directed, minus his life support equipment, to add 'realism' to the scene. More blood was beginning to soak through the material at the back of his flightsuit from the wounds she had inflicted on him the day before. But those wounds would soon be the least of his problems.

* * * * * * * *

Tycho watched as the countdown on his screen slowly clicked down towards zero. His group was making an in-system micro-jump to Arramsetti III in hopes of catching the Imperials off guard. The _Venture_ and her two escorts had jumped five minutes ahead of them, expecting to draw the fire of the _Querulous_ before they arrived.

His silver and green astromech beeped a short signal, and a second later his X-wing dropped out of hyperspace just outside the atmosphere of Arramsetti III. Looking to port, then starboard, he watched the twelve other fighters of Rogue Squadron, and the mixed dozen from the _Errant Venture_, as they popped into the system. They were closely followed by the _Stardust_ and _Pulsar Skate_. The four shuttles containing the infantry troops would be staging from the _Venture's_ hanger once the ground action began.

Only when he had accounted for all of his ships did Tycho become aware of the distant form of a second Star Destroyer in orbit.

"All ships present and accounted for, Rogue Leader," Corran's voice crackled over the comm channel. "But I think we're in trouble."

Tycho couldn't agree more. With the appearance of another Victory Class Star Destroyer and her TIEs, they were sorely outgunned. "All fighters, lock S-foils in attack position." He glanced at the text scrolling across his screen as his R-2 estimated the number of fighters they were facing. His stomach folded in on itself. "They've got six full squadrons of eyeballs and squints out there. We need to get in and get rid of them as soon as possible."

"That's only five and a fraction each, Lead." Bror Jace's voice carried its usual self-confidence. "If anyone can't handle theirs, let me know."

"Hey, Plus," Gavin Darklighter quipped. "Did you ever get the patent on those ego powered shields? I think we're going to need them."

"Trim it, Rogues." Tycho knew that the chatter was pre-battle tension, but it was past time for that now. "Remember our mission. We take out as many fighters as we can, then support the ground troops. Take out any Scout Walkers or gun emplacements that fire on them and cover for the _Skate_. Everybody got that?"

There was a chorus of confirmations. "All right, Rogues, there's a man down there who needs us. Let's get the party started."


	25. Chapter 25

****

**25**

As they made their way through the crowd towards the monument, Heblon furtively scanned the faces on either side of him. He spotted some individuals here and there that he recognized from his contacts with the underground.

He looked over at the base of the monument, in the direction that they were heading, and his gaze locked with that of a woman. She was beautiful, with a head of red curls and incredible green eyes. He recognized her immediately from the descriptions Wedge had given him.

The woman looked straight at him as he walked by, and he gave her a slight nod. Her eyes shifted from Heblon, focusing on the prisoner, and for the briefest of seconds her expression softened. But then it was replaced by a look of dangerous intent. Her hand rose to her mouth and he knew that she was speaking into a comlink.

_No wonder Antilles remembered her. A woman like that would be hard to forget_.

Kell and Face, on either side of Wedge, had reached the top of five steps that led up to Wedge's X-wing. Two members of the six stormtrooper escort stepped forward to help get their prisoner into position.

Moff Tchlinda's voice rose over the speakers again, echoing off into the distance as the Wraiths prepared to make their move. "General Antilles will be sealed in the cockpit of his X-wing, where we will all have the pleasure of watching his life end, slowly. He will remain there as a reminder that those who challenge the Empire will pay for their treasonous conduct."

Smiling coldly, she raised her hand to signal the men to place Wedge in his ship.

And at that moment, all hell broke loose.

* * * * * * * *

A series of tremendous explosions shattered the morning's celebration as the small incendiary bombs Kell had placed in and around the plaza and garrison went off with spectacular results. The sounds of the blasts were deafening, and for a split second there was stunned disbelief on the faces in the crowd. Then the plaza became a scene of frenzied chaos. The assembled stormtroopers broke ranks and moved to find defensive positions, unsure where the attack was coming from. The civilians, who only wanted to get out of the way, scattered for cover or fled the plaza altogether.

The two stormtroopers who had come forward to help Kell and Face pitched backward almost simultaneously, smoking holes where their chest plates met their shoulder armor. Kell yanked off his helmet and threw it aside while blasting another then another of the six troopers.

Face took out the other two in rapid succession and then removed his own helmet. He knew that taking off his helmet was the only way that the rebel forces in the plaza would know not to shoot him.

A suddenly mobile Wedge Antilles dove for cover under the S-foil of his X-wing, snagging the blaster carbine from one of the fallen troopers as he did. He was joined a second later by Heblon and the two Wraiths as they took cover behind the port landing strut.

"You remember how to use that thing?" Heblon asked him.

Wedge ducked as a bolt of energy smacked into the metal in front of him, spraying molten fragments over both of them. "It'll come back to me." He aimed and snapped off two shots. A trooper who was moving into position to flank them clattered to the ferrocrete. "Told ya," he said, smiling at the Lieutenant.

"Sithspawn!" Heblon shook his head and brought up his own blaster.

* * * * * * * *

At the first explosion, Lathel Tchlinda stared incredulously at the scene before her and watched all of her carefully laid plans dissolve before her eyes. People ran screaming for cover as blaster fire cris-crossed the plaza. Everywhere she looked, armed civilians were attacking Imperial troopers.

She turned to see Turpa speaking into his comlink at the back of the balcony. He finished his conversation, tucked the communication device back into his belt, and moved towards Tchlinda. He had to shout over the noise from the plaza to make himself heard. "The _Retribution_ has arrived andreports that she is under attack by a Star Destroyer and two Mon Calamari cruisers. Cright managed to deploy our fighters, but we have lost communication with the _Querulous_. The _Retribution_ has launched her four squadrons." He hesitated, knowing that she would not be happy with the next piece of information. "_Retribution_ reports that Rogue Squadron has just arrived."

Tchlinda turned from him, and her fingers held tightly to the railing of the balcony. She searched through the confusion in front of her and spotted an apparently much recovered Wedge Antilles as he ducked for cover. She smiled when she saw Lieutenant Heblon following the man, and waited for the officer to shoot the Rebel pilot. But instead of being the instrument of her revenge, the Lieutenant was actually helping the man. Two of his stormtroopers were blasting away at her troops, dropping them one after another.

A murderous and unreasoning rage filled her as she watched the four men firing at the other troopers near them. She started towards the steps that led down to the plaza, but was stopped short by Turpa.

"Lathel, this way. My shuttle is still on the landing pad at the palace. We have to get back to the _Querulous_."

"No! I must kill Antilles first." She struggled to free her arm from his grip.

"Don't be insane. We need to leave, now, or we may lose everything. Forget this obsession with Antilles!"

"I said no!" She turned on him and the look he saw in her eyes caused him to release his grip on her arm. "I will see Antilles dead, no matter the cost! Contact the _Retribution _and have them send some of their fighters to begin strafing the plaza. Have the ST-AT's open fire on the crowd. Get your shuttle ready, and I will join you shortly."

Turning to her personal stormtrooper guards, she motioned to them. "Give me a weapon, and come with me." One of the troopers handed her a blaster and she turned and moved down the steps. 


	26. Chapter 26

**26**

Gavin's X-wing spiraled through space, successfully avoiding the not too accurate fire from the TIE Interceptor on his tail.

As soon as the Rogues had driven into the swarming cloud of TIEs, Gavin had lost track of his wingman, Rehm. He could see the blue marker on his screen that meant he was out there somewhere, but he couldn't get a visual lock on him. Now he was alone, unprotected.

He inverted and dove towards the planet, hitting the right rudder pedal, swinging the back of his ship to port. He kept his turn tight and fast, his body being driven into his pilot's couch, despite his inertial compensator that fought the effects of gravity.

The TIE was slow in reacting and Gavin soon swept in behind it. His heads-up display flashed from yellow to red as he got a lock on it. He fired one missile and saw it streak across the short distance, shearing off the left solar panel of the fighter. Both pieces tumbled end over end out into space.

Gavin breathed a sigh of relief and his hand unconsciously brushed across his abdomen. He had been with Rogue Squadron only a few short months when he had been shot in the belly by Imperial stormtroopers in their supposedly secret base on Talasea. At the time, it was the closest he had ever been to dying. The pain had been unbearable and he had spent nearly a week in a bacta tank. From time to time his belly would ache sympathetically at the memory of his first brush with death.

His R-5 unit, Jawaswag, screeched. He looked over his shoulder in time to see an eyeball swoop in behind him. He sent his ship weaving towards one of the Mon Calamari cruisers in an attempt to make himself a more difficult target. He stomped on the left rudder pedal and pulled back on the stick, bringing his ship up and to the right. But he immediately dove again, heading directly at the planet.

There was a bright flash behind him and he turned to see an expanding ball of fire that had been the eyeball. He quickly checked his sensor screen. "Thanks, Five. Nice to see you again."

"Sorry I had to go, Six. A squint wanted my attention more than you did."

"Understood. Let's get back in there and help take some attention off the others."

"Six, some of the TIEs are heading for the planet. Your seven o'clock."

Gavin looked over his left shoulder and saw six TIEs heading for the atmosphere. "I see it, Five." He switched over to the general squad channel. "Lead, Six. Some of the eyeballs are heading dirt side. Permission for Five and I to follow and dissuade them."

"Granted, Six. But don't be gone too long. We need you here as well."

"Back soon, boss. Let's go, Five."

* * * * * * * *

The air was split by the distinctive whine of TIEs, and those left in the plaza looked up to see some of the small fighters diving down towards them.

Elscol had been trying to make her way through the crowd with little success. She stopped to look into the sky and saw the TIEs approach. With almost hypnotic fascination, she watched one of the ungainly little fighters heading straight for where she stood.

She could almost imagine the pilot's movements in the ball cockpit as he targeted and prepared to fire. Then suddenly the TIE exploded in a brilliant ball of flame. She and everyone around her ducked for cover from the resulting shower of shrapnel. A split second later, a spiraling X-wing occupied the airspace where the eyeball had been.

On either side of the garrison next door, Scout Walkers began to make their way towards the fleeing civilians in and around the plaza. But they were ripped apart by a second snubfighter before they could even reach them. After hitting its targets, the X-wing rejoined his wingmate and headed for three TIEs screaming in towards the plaza. The five ships swarmed overhead like angry insects, flashes of red and green light erupting between them.

One by one, the TIEs were destroyed. With their mission accomplished, the two X-wings screamed for space again.

Once upon a time, Elscol would have wished she were up there with them, but her life had changed a lot since she had parted ways with the Rogues. And now she had another mission to accomplish.

She began fighting her way through the sea of people, trying to make her way towards the balcony where her targets waited.

* * * * * * * *

Corran waited for the targeting box on his screen to flash green, then hit the firing button, sending a quad burst of red lasers out to bisect the TIE Interceptor that he'd been pursuing. Hot debris hit one of the fuel cells, and the ship was reduced to a cloud of flaming gas.

Completing the climb that he'd started, he rolled the X-wing to starboard and looked around. Ooryl, as always, was still on his wing.

A trio of TIEs were attempting to run down one of the Uglies from the _Errant Venture_, so he headed in that direction. He glanced at his tactical screen to identify the ship. "Watch your tail, Venture Six. You've picked up company. Ten and I are on them."

"Hurry, Rogue Nine." The inexperienced pilot sounded on the verge of panic.

"Copy, Venture Six. Cut to a heading of three five mark four."

The Ugly, a combination of an X-wing's S-foils and the ball cockpit of a TIE Interceptor, complied with his order, and its pilot was suddenly heading right for Corran.

The Corellian could imagine the _Venture_ pilot's face when his X-wing opened fire at the TIE trailing him. It would look like he was shooting at the Ugly, but it meant that the TIE following him might not be able to see Corran's approach.

The TIEs solar panel sheared off and part of it blew right through the cockpit. Corran had to glance away as it exploded in a brilliant expanding ball of flame.

The other two TIEs on Six's rear quickly winked out of existence as Corran and Ooryl converged on them. "Thanks, Rogues. I owe you."

"No problem, Venture Six. You can buy us a drink later."

Corran and Ooryl passed by theUgly and headed into the thick of the dog fight. Corran saw a TIE fall in behind an X-wing and a quick check of his sensors showed that it was Wes Janson. "Rogue Twelve, there's a squint dropping in behind you."

"I'm on him, Nine," Eleven's voice replied. Hobbie's ship swooped in from above, his lasers converging at the rear of the TIE. There was a brief flash and the ship was reduced to melted metal parts.

"Thanks, Eleven. It's about time you came in handy for something." Corran was happy to hear humor return to Wes's voice.

"Lead, Nine. Is it me or are these guys not that good?"

"I was beginning to think the same thing, Nine," Tycho replied. "Not that I'm complaining. We'll figure it out later."

Corran looked at his sensor board. The TIEs had been hit hard. Of the original seventy-two, only forty-one remained. _I have to agree with Tycho that we can't complain, but it should be much harder than this. These pilots are either very green or someone set Tchlinda up to fail._

* * * * * * * *

On board the _Paladin_, a thick smoke was beginning to fill the bridge. Fire had broken out to the left where a power coupling had exploded, wounding several of the crew working in that area.

Captain Assay paced in front of the viewport. The new Star Destroyer was hitting his ship hard. They had identified her as the _Retribution _and they couldn't take much more pounding from her. The _Querulous_ was drifting in space, disabled by repeated salvos from their ion cannons, but the _Retribution _had moved in front of her, providing a shield for the helpless ship.

"Ensign, bring us around to heading one two mark eight four. Let the _Provider_ take a shot at _Retribution._ Give me a channel to the _Venture_.

"Aye, sir. Channel open."

"Captain Terrik, I hope you have a plan for the _Retribution_, because I am fresh out of ideas."

"I do in fact have an idea, Captain, but it's a little outrageous. I know that ship and the individual in charge of her and her fleet. If you and the _Provider_ can keep her busy, I'm going to try something."

"Whatever it is, make it fast."

"Understood. _Venture_ out."

The channel closed, and he signaled to the communications officer. "Let me know as soon as you get any message from Captain Terrik."

"Aye, sir."

"Helm, bring us around to heading two four mark four eight. Head in straight for _Retribution's_ bow. Let's see if we can get her attention."

* * * * * * * *

Booster Terrik left the bridge in the hands of Azzeh and headed for his private office. He had a call to make and he was pretty sure that the individual he was calling would like to keep their conversation private.

Once he reached his office, he locked the door and placed a holocomm call. It took a few minutes for the transmission to be routed through a dozen sources. Even then it took several passwords before he was able to reach Admiral Tesh Dorass on Qsartun Prime. And when he did, the Admiral was not at all happy.

"Captain Terrik, I have asked you repeatedly not to call me. _I_ will contact _you_!" The Admiral was middle aged and had thickened a little around his middle. He had eyes so dark that they seemed almost black, and even through the crackling transmission, they were still intense.

"I'm sorry, Admiral, but I am sure you will appreciate that I called you this time. It could mean the difference between you keeping or losing the _Retribution_."

"What do you know of my ship?"

Booster gave a slight smile. "I know quite a bit, more than you probably want me to know. But the thing that may interest you is that my Star Destroyer and yours are in the middle of a battle over Arramsetti III."

Dorass nodded slowly. "So, you are the reason that Turpa felt compelled to threaten me into handing over one of my ships."

"Yes. He and his Moff are holding a very good friend of mine and I want him back. If I have to destroy your ship to do it, I will. But I wanted to offer you the chance to withdraw it. Consider it a courtesy for a client."

"That is unusually generous of you, Captain, but Turpa knows not only about our business arrangements but several others as well." He paused as a thought occurred to him. "How do I know that you didn't leak that information to him?"

"I don't suppose you would believe me if I gave you my word that I didn't?"

"No, I would not."

"Well then, let me put it to you in terms we can both appreciate. It would be bad for my operation and my reputation if I were to let it be known that we had business together. Where else can I get parts for the _Venture_? The New Republic would certainly frown upon it, even though they aren't about to hand over what I need for my ship."

"That, I can believe." Dorass was silent for a moment as he thought the situation over. The lights dimmed briefly and Booster could hear thumps as his ship took fire from the Imperials. A shudder ran through the deck beneath his feet, and he hoped that Dorass would decide quickly.

"Captain, before I consider calling off the _Retribution_, I would need certain...assurances."

"Such as?"

"I need to know that Tchlinda and Turpa will be taken care of. Should they survive, they will know that I have betrayed them. They will inform Naval Command of my arrangements with you and members of the New Republic. I will be executed for treason."

"Admiral, if you withdraw your ship, I can guarantee that Arramsetti III will fall, Tchlinda and Turpa with it."

The Admiral let out a long sigh. "Very well. I'll contact the _Retribution_ and have them leave the system. You will owe me much for this, Captain."

"Consider it a favor, Admiral. And I always repay my favors. But before you go, there is one question I would like to ask you."

"Make it a quick one, Terrik."

"Of course, Admiral. The pilots that you sent with _Retribution_, they aren't your best, are they?"

Dorass looked as if Booster had struck him across the face, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Captain Terrik, are you insinuating that I would send substandard pilots and equipment to a fellow Admiral?"

Booster smiled. "Of course not. Thank you for your time, Admiral."

"You are welcome. Don't _ever_ call me again."

With a wink of light, Dorass' holo-image faded to static and Booster headed out of his office. 


	27. Chapter 27

**27**

Tycho brought his X-wing around, falling in behind the TIE Interceptor making a run at Rogue Four. He came in at an angle, the sun of the Arramsetti system at his back, hoping the TIE pilot wouldn't be able to see him. But obviously he could.

The TIE juked left and right in an effort to evade his shots, but at least it also meant that the TIE couldn't get a solid lock on Varnestra. Tycho held his fire for a moment, studying the other ship's movements. He noticed that the other pilot had a tendency to shift to port, followed by a snap role to starboard. He watched the cycle one more time then made his move.

The smaller ship dipped then rose again, in hopes of getting in a lucky shot at the other Rogue, then shifted to port. Tycho aimed at an area of space just to the right of the squint and pressed his trigger. Less than a second later, the other ship flew right into his cross hairs and exploded.

"Thanks, Lead." Rogue Four murmured. Her voice was very subdued.

"Rogue Four, where's your wingman?"

"He's gone, Lead. He flew right into a turbolaser blast from _Retribution."_ Even through the crackling comm system, there was no mistaking the anguish in her voice.

Tycho checked his screen and suddenly his mouth went dry. Varnestra was right. Arata Voran was no longer there. "Four, form up with me. We're heading back towards the _Paladin_."

"Complying, Rogue Leader."

Tycho watched as her X-wing came around to join his from the right. From his left, Rekdon, his own temporary wingman, came around to rejoin him after taking out his own eyeball.

"Rogue Leader, this is Rogue Control."

Tycho switched over to the tactical channel of their small fleet. "Go ahead, Control."

"Lead, be advised that the _Retribution _will be leaving the system and taking her fighters with her. Do not fire on any TIE that is not engaging you. Is that understood?"

"I copy, Control. Would you mind explaining what is going on?"

"Not on this channel, Tycho. Booster says 'just trust me on this.'"

"I hope he knows what he's doing." He switched back to the squadron frequency. "Attention, Rogue and Venture Group. Do not attack any TIE that is not actively hostile. If they are heading for the _Retribution,_ let them go. Fire only on targets that engage you."

As he spoke, he saw more than half of the remaining TIEs on his screen break off and head back to their ship at a speed no X-wing could match. That left thirteen of _Querulous' _fighters to contend with along with the Star Destroyer herself. But he didn't think they would cause them too many problems. The _Querulous_' turbolasers were mostly quiet since she had been overcome by ion cannons.

The remainder of the _Retribution's _ships had entered her hangers, and the giant ship turned her bow away from Arramsetti III. She headed out of the planet's mass shadow at flank speed, making her run up to light speed. With a blur of motion, she was gone. Tycho realized that his mouth was hanging open in surprise. Just like that, the tide had turned in their favor.

"Rogue Leader, Control here." Nawara's voice came through his speakers again, composed and calm. "The remaining fighters are heading for the planet. Transport shuttles with ground troops ready to head to landing site. Recommend Rogue Squadron provide cover for the shuttles."

"Agreed, Control. Have the _Venture_ release the shuttles. Each Rogue Flight will escort their shuttle to the planet. Have what's left of Venture Squadron remain in orbit to protect the shuttles on their exit and to deal with any TIEs that try to meet up with the _Querulous_."

"I copy, Lead. Happy hunting." Nawara's last word was clipped at the end as the Executive Officer changed frequencies.

Tycho dialed his own comm unit back to the Rogue channel. "Listen up, Rogues. What's left of the TIEs are heading away from the combat zone towards the planet. Break by Flights and cover a shuttle each. You know which ones you are responsible for. It's time to deliver our assault troops. Check in by number."

"Lead, Rogue Two. Message received."

Tycho couldn't help but notice a moment's hesitation before Rogue Four spoke.

"Rogue Four here. Understood."

"Rogue Five, okay."

"Rogue Six, ready to go."

"Rogue Seven, copy."

"Lead, Rogue Eight. Understood."

"Nine here. Lead the way."

"Ten understands."

"Eleven, still in one piece and ready to go."

"Lead, Twelve. Just point me in the right direction."

"Rogue Plus copies."

"Good. Form up by flight and cover the shuttle you have been assigned. And stay alert. We've already had one surprise, I don't want anymore."

* * * * * * * *

In the center of the plaza, Elscol, Sixtus, and their group of resistance fighters had begun to work their way toward the balcony that held Tchlinda and Turpa, when they began to take heavy fire. Scrambling for whatever cover they could find, Elscol thumbed on her comlink.

"Tuvora? Do you read me?" There was no answer. "Tuvora?" She started looking around for the red headed Major.

She spotted the woman near the monument. As she'd paused under cover to replace the power cell in her blaster, a stormtrooper had grabbed Ajene by the hair and was bringing his own fully charged blaster up toward her chest. Dropping the useless blaster, her right hand moved with a flicking motion and a vibroblade appeared. Using her left hand to grip the hand that held her hair, she slashed with the blade at one of the vulnerable spots on the trooper's armored arm, the elbow. At the same time, she brought up her left knee, knocking the trooper's blaster from his other hand.

The hand that had been holding her hair went limp, and Ajene silenced his scream of agony by letting go of the partially severed arm, shoving the chin of his helmet upwards, then slashing his exposed throat. The vibroblade disappeared as quickly as it had appeared and, picking up her blaster again, she finished loading the power cell. Then she brought out her comlink. "Sorry, Elscol. What do you need?" She looked around until she spotted Elscol under a low balcony.

It took Elscol a second to find her voice. _And I was worried about how she would react under fire? _"Um...We're taking fire and can't get to Tchlinda's balcony. Can you see where the fire's coming from?"

"Stand by. I'll get back to you."

* * * * * * * *

Clipping her comlink to the collar of her flightsuit and holstering her blaster, Ajene searched for a better vantage point. She glanced up at the monument and smiled.

Removing a thin cable and collapsible grappling hook from one of the dead stormtrooper's belt pouches, she headed at a run for the outstretched arm of one of the statues on the monument. Dodging blaster bolts as she went, she twirled the weighted hook several times, then let it fly. It wrapped itself around its intended target and caught on the first try. She began to climb the cable effortlessly.

Reaching the top, she swung up and over the top of the arm. From there she had a perfect view of most of the plaza. She tilted her head and spoke into her comlink. "I've spotted them, Elscol. It's an E-Web on the roof of one of the other buildings. I'll have it taken care of."

"Thanks."

"By the way, Tchlinda and Turpa aren't on the balcony anymore. I just saw Turpa duck into the Palace. I don't know where Tchlinda is."

"Understood. We can handle him as soon as we can get into the Palace."

"No problem. Stand by." She switched frequencies on her comlink. "Rogue Leader, do you copy?"

"Loud and clear, Ajene." There was the distinct sound of an explosion from the comlink and it echoed through the plaza a second later. Ajene looked up just in time to see a TIE fighter disintegrate in the distance under Tycho's guns. "What can I do for you?"

"There's an E-Web on the roof of the building directly across from the Palace. You can't miss it. It's the one with the green roof. Can you have someone take care of that for us? It's got Loro's group pinned down. Don't have to worry about collateral damage, 'cause the plaza is nearly clear. "

"Consider it done. And we've got your reinforcements headed in. They should be on the ground in a few minutes," Tycho said, his voice crackling through the static.

"I copy that, Rogue Leader. Thanks." She remained where she was until she spotted an X-wing swoop around and make its run. She returned to the ground channel. "Incoming, El. You'll be clear in a minute. You may want to take cover."

At that second, the approaching X-wing let go a quad burst of fire from its lasers. A heartbeat later the E-Web canon and its crew were vaporized, spraying ferrocrete and metal shards down into the empty plaza. All that remained of the top floor of the building was smoking rubble. The X-wing screamed by overhead, barely ten meters above the plaza. Its S-foils dipped left then right in a close approximation of a wave.

_That has to be Jace, _Ajene thought._ No one else is quite that arrogant._

Ajene looked out to where Elscol and her men had taken cover and watched as the resistance group surged toward the Moff's Palace. As she prepared to drop from her position, Ajene glanced around one final time, and something caught her eye. Moving in the opposite direction from the palace was Lathel Tchlinda and five stormtroopers. Ajene plotted their course and estimated where they were heading.

Looking down to their likely destination, she saw the Lieutenant, Heblon she thought his name was, and Wedge, firing from the cover of the X-wing's port S-foil. They wouldn't be able to see Tchlinda from their position, and she would be on top of them before they even knew she was there.

Instead of dropping back to the ground, Ajene climbed onto the shoulder of the statue. Carefully making her way around the head and along the other arm, she moved to the top of the stone tab. She worked her way toward the front of the monument, where Wedge and Heblon were pinned down. She couldn't see Kell or Face, but knew they had to be down there somewhere.

She moved as quickly as she could, balanced precariously as she crossed the arm. She hoped that she would reach the far side in time to warn Wedge about Tchlinda's group, who approached far below to her left.

* * * * * * * *

Acid bubbled up into Jarice Cright's throat as he watched the _Retribution_ recover her fighters and head for hyperspace.

_We've lost. There is no way we can win without that ship._

They had managed to restore partial shields and their engines, but they had very few fighters left and Rogue Squadron had proved extremely adept at avoiding their turbolasers. Should the X-wings turn on them with their missiles, they would be dead.

The two Mon Calamari cruisers, much smaller than his ship, continued to dance around them, striking out with vicious intent. They would keep on nibbling away at their hull until the _Querulous_ broke apart or they surrendered.

Panic overwhelmed him and self-preservation kicked in. _Run. We have to run. If we remain here the rebels will kill us._

He whirled around to face Lieutenant Brue. "Mr. Brue, bring us around. We're getting out of here."

A look of disbelief passed across the young man's face. "But sir, Admiral Turpa..."

"Forget Admiral Turpa. There is nothing we can do to help him. If we stay here we will be destroyed along with him. We are leaving!"

"Aye, sir," the Lieutenant conceded. "What heading?"

"Any heading, Brue. Just get us out of this system, then we will decide where to go."

* * * * * * * *

Booster Terrik returned to the bridge of the _Errant Venture_ just in time to see the _Querulous_ turn and make a slow run out of the system.

"Azzeh, stop that ship. I want it kept here."

"Excuse me, sir? You _want_ to keep it here?" She stared at him incredulously.

"That's right. Have the _Paladin_ and _Provider_ hit it again with their ion cannons."

"Yes, sir." She turned to the communications officer to give the order, but the Star Destroyer was gone in a flash.

Booster hammered his huge fist off the arm of his chair. "Sithspit!"

His first officer approached him, still more than a little confused. "I thought this whole mission was designed to get the _Querulous_ to run, sir?"

"I suppose it was, Azzeh. But I wanted that ship. Do you know how much the New Republic would pay for a slightly used Victory Star Destroyer?"

"No, but I am sure you do." She grinned at him, and he had to smile in return.

"Contact the ground forces and Colonel Celchu. Let them know the _Querulous_ is gone." He looked over the heads of his bridge crew. "Now if we can only get Wedge back, this would be a good day."

* * * * * * * *

Using the monument as cover, Moff Tchlinda and her stormtrooper escort eased their way toward the unsuspecting men hiding beneath the X-wing.

The group had snuck around the plaza, keeping to the high wall down one side, and had slowly moved from the back of the monument towards the front, where the X-wing sat.

Suddenly, one of the troopers fell, hit by a blaster shot from across the plaza. Tchlinda couldn't see the sniper, but knew that he had to be on one of the buildings across from the garrison. On her signal the four remaining stormtroopers closed in around her and they continued to move forward. But no more shots came close to them and she concluded that they must have moved out of the sniper's range.

After several more minutes of stealthily stealing towards their prey, they were finally in position. With a wave of her hand, two of her guards worked their way farther around the front of the monument and split up. While one stopped not too far from Tchlinda, the second proceeded further down, keeping just out of view of the two men under the cover of the X-wing.

With a silent signal between the two troopers, they popped up, one to the left of the X-wing, the other to the right, and drew Wedge and Heblon's attention in opposite directions. Both men fired at the troopers, but only Heblon's shot connected, hitting his target high in the chest, dropping him to the ferrocrete below. Wedge continued to track his fire towards the second stormtrooper and Heblon turned to fire as well.

Kell and Face came around from the far side of the fighter, raising their rifles towards the decoy trooper. Kell was the first to hit him, and he dropped to the ground, clutching at a large crater in the lower half of his chest plate. Heblon turned back towards the far side of the monument, making sure that no other threats presented themselves.

On Tchlinda's command, her two remaining troopers stood and took aim. Heblon shouted a warning and managed to get in between the troopers and Wedge, taking a green laser bolt to the shoulder. He stumbled back with the force of the blast, then slumped against the fuselage of the X-wing, a smoking, sizzling hole in his uniform. He eventually dropped heavily to the ground.

Face snapped off one last shot, taking out the second of the decoy troopers, who had risen to his feet again. Kell and Wedge whirled to face the new threat, who now stood before them, covering them with their rifles. They raised their hands as Tchlinda stepped out of her protected position.

She had them cornered.

* * * * * * * *

Lathel Tchlinda motioned for the three men to drop their weapons, and they complied, Wedge dropping his next to the fallen Lieutenant. As he did, he caught an almost imperceptible movement out of the corner of his left eye, above and beyond his fighter.

"Well, General Antilles, I'd like to congratulate you on your remarkable recovery. You are truly an exceptional adversary. In a way I'm glad that it has come to this. Now I will have the pleasure of finishing you myself."

"And we know how much you value your pleasure, isn't that right, Lady Tchlinda?" He leaned heavily against the bottom engine on the S-foil.

"Indeed we do. Now, down on your knees General. But keep your hands where I can see them, please." She motioned with her blaster, and he eased down onto his knees, his fingers laced behind his head. "Would you like to beg for your life? Please do."

"No. I don't think that'll be necessary. I'm just going to get out of the way." He smiled up at her, then flung himself onto his stomach.

"What?"

Her question was lost in the sound of the blaster shot that took out the trooper standing next to her. Kell dove for his blaster and took out the second trooper. Tchlinda had just enough time to realize that Heblon had fired the first shot with Wedge's discarded blaster and shift her aim to return fire when she was hit chest high by the full weight of Ajene Tuvora.

The Major swung in from high above Wedge, plowing through Tchlinda. The two women tumbled down the steps that led down to the plaza from the level where the X-wing sat. They landed in a tangle on the walkway at the bottom. Tchlinda struggled to bring her blaster to bear on her attacker, who was just as determined to stop her.

Raising his head cautiously, Wedge looked at the women. He struggled up onto his hands and knees and crawled over to where Heblon was attempting to sit up. "How bad is it?" He helped the man lean against the front landing strut and took a closer look at the wounded shoulder.

"Not too bad," he grunted. "Not much more than a flesh wound." He looked down towards where the two women were fighting on the ground, then at Wedge. The pilot was beginning to shake noticeably. "I see that shot I gave you is wearing off. You okay?"

Wedge leaned against the ship, next to the Lieutenant. "Uh huh."

"That's your lady, isn't it?" Heblon nodded toward the women just as Tchlinda avoided a roundhouse kick to the jaw from Ajene.

"Yeah. That's her." They watched as Ajene twisted violently and dumped the other woman onto her back.

A blaster bolt exploded at Ajene's feet as she stood over Tchlinda, and she had to dive for cover. Kell and Face fired back at the troopers across the plaza, and Ajene was able to make her way back to the monument. Wedge watched as Tchlinda crawled to the side of the plaza and disappeared from view.

Landing heavily beside Wedge and Heblon, Ajene tried to catch her breath. Finally she looked at Wedge and grinned. "Nice to see you again, General."

"Major." He smiled wearily back at her. "Sorry about dinner."

"I'll forgive you this time, but don't make a habit of it." She leaned over and kissed him hard on the mouth. Then, straightening up, she drew her blaster.

The two men helped each other stand, and she eyed them uncertainly. Neither one of them looked too steady on their feet. Kell stepped forward and slung Wedge's arm around his shoulders while Face let Heblon lean on him for support.

"Do you guys think you could make a run for it?" Ajene asked.

"We can sure try," Heblon said. "We certainly don't want to stay here."

"Let's hope so, because this would be a really good time to go. We're headed to the back of the Moff's Palace." She lifted her comlink to her mouth and contacted the sniper on top of the roof across from the garrison. "This is Major Tuvora. Give us some covering fire. We're heading from the front of the monument to the Palace." There was a double click in reply and she tucked the device into a pocket. "Okay, boys. Let's move."

* * * * * * * *

Once the E-Web was neutralized, Sixtus and Elscol moved their team toward the Moff's Palace with relative ease. The fighting in the plaza was still heavy, and there were pockets of Imperial resistance that took more dealing with than others. But without the Scout Walkers and the E-Web to worry about, the tide of the battle had turned in their favor.

Reaching the Palace, they split up into two groups. One headed down, to clear any trouble that might be hiding in the lower levels of the building. The other team, which included Sixtus and Elscol, headed up to prevent Osiel Turpa from escaping in his shuttle.

Making their way cautiously up the stairs, leaving a rear guard to cover each floor, they worked their way to the fifth level, one level before the roof. Once they reached that level, they were stopped cold. In the hall, another E-Web had been set up, and its crew fired on anything that moved.

"Now what?" Elscol ducked back behind a wall just as the cannon fired, knocking a large chunk out of the corner at head level. "They'll hold us here long enough for Turpa and a command crew to get to the shuttle and raise ship."

Sixtus spoke up. "I think I might have something that could work here." He smiled and pulled a flat disk from his pack. It was about fifteen centimeters across and made of a dark gray metal.

"What is that?" Elscol asked, unfamiliar with the design.

"Something that Kell thought we might need. Give me some room here. When I tell you, lay down some covering fire." They backed off a few meters while he fiddled with the inner workings of the disk. "All right...now!"

The room lit up with the flash of blasters, and the stench of ozone permeated the air. Sixtus stood and dove across the hallway, sliding the disk across the floor as he went. He just managed to duck behind the wall on the far side as the E-Web began to track him. But before the energy could reach him, there was a thunderous explosion and the E-Web went silent.

Elscol gave Sixtus a thin-lipped smile as he stood on the other side of the hall. "I think I'm beginning to like Kell. Let's move."

There was a hasty shuffling of people and positions, and they headed up the stairs at a run. When they reached the roof, the scenario did not look very promising.

Turpa and a group of stormtroopers had barricaded themselves behind a low blast containment wall, and were laying down a withering pattern of fire. To make matters worse, there was someone in the shuttle running through the pre-flight sequence.

"We've got to stop that shuttle." Elscol switched comm frequencies. "Any Rogue in the vicinity of the Moff's Palace. Do you copy?"

"Rogue Nine here." Corran's voice was strained as he was no doubt under fire himself. But he soon continued, more at ease. "What can I do for you, El?"

"We're on the roof of the palace. We need the Lamb taken care of. Nothing too spectacular, just enough to keep her from lifting off."

"No problem. Your reinforcements are almost on the ground, and your wish is my command. Keep your heads down for a few minutes."

It actually didn't take Corran much longer than a few seconds. There was the roar of an approaching X-wing, and then two linked laser shots sizzled through the morning air.

The shuttle rocked, and the upper stabilizer and one of the folded wings melted. The liquid metal ran down the sides of the ship in rivulets.

"How's that?"

"Just fine, Nine. Thanks."

"Ten and I are in the neighborhood until the_ Skate_ lifts off. Let us know if you need anymore help. By the way, the _Querulous_ has left the system." Corran's ship flashed overhead, in a three hundred and sixty-degree roll, then stood on its tail and went straight up.

"Showoff!" She turned back to the problem at hand. But she had a little more confidence knowing that the _Querulous_ was gone. A loud bang brought her attention back to the present. The wing that had not been slagged clattered to the ground, crushing a stormtrooper in the process.

With their only means of escape gone, the Imperials seemed to lose the will to fight, and most threw down their guns. The few diehards that didn't lasted only a few minutes longer. Only Turpa remained behind cover, firing back at the advancing Rebels. In a last desperate move, he charged them, one against six. Elscol shook her head and let go one shot. A blue stun bolt struck him in the chest and he pitched forward onto the permacrete roof.

As the Imperial prisoners, including the Lamb's pilot, were herded downstairs, Sixtus and Elscol walked over to where the Admiral lay. Reaching down, Sixtus rolled him over and swore passionately. The man was far too young to be the Admiral.

"It's not him. It's a decoy. We have to find him! 


	28. Chapter 28

****

**28**

Getting from the monument to the landing area was taking a bit longer than Ajene would have liked, but it couldn't be helped. Not only was there still quite a bit of fighting to contend with, but her two charges were not in the best of shape, and it slowed their progress down considerably. Heblon was managing fairly well, but Wedge was weakening. He was now leaning heavily on Kell for support, his feet dragging.

They had quite a bit of open ground to cross before reaching the palace, and dozens of stormtroopers were still crouching behind cover, just waiting for them to pop out into the open.

After contacting the sniper on the building opposite them, the small group, led by Ajene, had prepared to make a run for it. "On three, we go." She looked around the group and got acknowledgements from them. She gripped her blaster a little tighter in her right hand, checked the charge, then started the count. "Three!"

They rose in unison, Face and Ajene taking point while Heblon covered their rear, spraying volley after volley of blaster bolts across the plaza. Kell, despite supporting most of Wedge's weight, managed to get off a few shots as well.

A dart of red energy shot out from the building on the far side of the plaza, taking out a stormtrooper who had risen to fire on the advancing quintet. Most of the troopers ducked deeper behind cover as shots started to pick them off one by one. The amount of blaster fire directed at Ajene's group diminished significantly, and they eventually made it to and past the Moff's palace.

The landing zone was an open piece of ground five hundred meters beyond the palace. When they got there, the shuttles were just beginning to offload their ground troops.

Each of the four ships would circle the field once, surveying the site for any possible trouble. Then they would lower their ramps, and a wave of people would hit the ground at a dead run. The troops then separated into teams and spread out towards the palace and garrison. As each ship lifted, they'd raise the ramp and head for space. All the while, several X-wings circled overhead, covering each of the ships against attack from above.

Rather than swim against the living tide of troops, Ajene steered their group to the cover provided by a small building at the side of the landing field. Kell and Face wiped at the sweat on their foreheads and had begun to strip off their stormtrooper armor. Wedge and Heblon leaned on the wall. Wedge slid down it and sat heavily on the ground, leaving a small smear of blood on the wall as he did so.

"Everybody all right?" Ajene asked breathlessly. Both Wedge and Heblon were exhausted, but they nodded as Kell and Face continued to remove their armor. But she could see Wedge was failing fast. "Wedge? Can you make it?"

He just nodded again, every action seeming to sap more and more of his strength. Ajene knelt down and reached for his hand. It was warm and clammy. She gave him an encouraging smile.

Wedge gave her a very weak smile in return, but it quickly faded. His eyelids began to droop and he started to slide down the wall onto his side. Heblon stopped his descent and shook him gently. Wedge's eyes popped open again.

"We have to get him out of here right now," Heblon said to Ajene.

"What's the matter with him?" Ajene asked, no longer able to mask her concern.

Heblon raised his voice over the rumble of repulsorlifts as the last shuttle cleared the area. "I gave him a stimulant shot about forty-five minutes ago and it's wearing off. He's going into shock and his system is shutting down. His wounds are severe and we have to get him into a bacta tank as soon as possible. If we don't, he'll die.

Wedge managed to lift his head as a roar told him that one of the X-wings was making a run on a target. His jaw dropped when he realized that the target was the building that they were leaning against.

Face looked up as well. "Get down!" he yelled and tried to grab Ajene and pull her down between himself and Heblon. Kell dropped to all fours next to them, covering Wedge with his own body.

They covered their heads as best they could just as the laser blasts sizzle overhead. There was the sound of the bolts striking something solid above and behind them. As they uncovered, Corran's green and black X-wing was rolling overhead before heading high. He streaked after a TIE fighter dropping down towards one of the shuttles.

Face, shedding the last of his armor, looked up at the retreating X-wing. "He only used half power. It must have been a surgical strike at someone or something on the other side of this building."

"We can't worry about it now," Ajene said, slipping a new power pack into her blaster.

Kell dropped the chest plate of his armor to the ground and readjusted the holster for his blaster. "I'll go check it out."

Before Face could stop him, he was around the side of the building. "Just great! Cracken will kill me if I come back without him." He sighed and returned his attention to the landing field just as the _Pulsar Skate_ descended. "That must be our ride."

"That's it," Ajene replied. "C'mon. Kell will just have to catch up."

The four of them stood, Heblon helping Wedge to his feet. When he nearly crumpled, Face quickly holstered his blaster and stepped in to help. They headed out toward the waiting ship, half carrying, half dragging him.

Ajene covered them from behind, scanning back and forth across the open ground between them and the freighter. Just as they reached the halfway point, she saw someone stagger out from behind the low wall of the building they had just left.

"Antilles! You're not going anywhere!" The bloody form of Lathel Tchlinda raised her blaster and prepared to shoot.

* * * * * * * *

At the sound of the Moff's voice, Heblon dove and jerked Wedge and Face to the ground as he went. In the same instant, Ajene's blaster came up and around. Two crimson bolts spat out in Tchlinda's direction, one striking center mass, and leaving a smoldering crater in her uniform. The other hit the woman in the face and she fell backwards, her hair on fire. The Moff's shot went wide, smacking harmlessly against the side of the _Skate_.

Then, from behind the same wall where Tchlinda had emerged, another blaster bolt stabbed toward them and hit Ajene in the upper thigh. As she fell, she tried to bring her blaster up to return fire, but the pain proved too much for her. She collapsed a meter from Wedge.

Osiel Turpa emerged from his protection behind the wall and aimed for Face as he moved towards Ajene. As soon as he spotted the Admiral, Face aimed and was about to fire, but Kell Tainer rounded the corner and tackled the Imperial at the waist.

The two men rolled around on the ground, struggling to gain an advantage. Turpa tried to get his hands around Kell's throat, but the Wraith swiped his hands aside. Kell tried to twist out of the way as he saw Turpa's right fist take aim, but he still caught some of the blow on the left side of his chin, knocking him to the ground.

The Admiral rolled over and straddled Kell's stomach, finally getting his hands around his windpipe. Face brought his rifle up and aimed at Turpa's chest, but again, before he could shoot, Kell got in the way.

Kell's left hand managed to get in a quick jab to Turpa's stomach. The Admiral doubled over and released the other man's throat. Then Kell's open palm came up under Turpa's chin, slamming his teeth together. Kell pushed him off of his stomach and jumped on top of him. He struck out at the Imperial's face several times before grabbing his shoulders and smashing his head off the ferrocrete until he stopped struggling.

The Wraith stood up, wiping blood from his chin with his hand. He waved over at Face, grinning from ear to ear.

* * * * * * * *

Mirax Terrik Horn came running down the boarding ramp of the _Pulsar Skate_ and headed straight for Heblon and Wedge. By the time she reached them, Heblon had managed to haul himself into a sitting position. He was holding on to a wild-eyed Wedge.

"Ajene!!" he screamed. Wedge struggled valiantly to crawl to the woman's side, but what little strength he had gave out. He collapsed to the ground, his sides heaving from the effort.

"Easy, Wedge." Kneeling next to him, Mirax put her arm around his shoulder, and he seemed to focus on her. She spoke softly to him. "She'll be all right. Let's get all of you on board."

Face knelt beside Ajene, who lay clutching at her right thigh, blood oozing between her fingers. He threaded an arm under her shoulders and pulled her up into a sitting position. She looked up at him, wincing at the pain. "We have to get out of here," she managed to say through gritted teeth.

"I can't argue with that," the Captain replied. He looked up at Kell, who had just gotten to his feet. "You okay?" he called.

"Yeah. Get them on board. I'll take care of this guy."

Face could see his friend fishing through his stormtrooper utility belt for something to bind Turpa. But he was so concentrated on his task, he hadn't noticed Turpa was moving just behind him.

"Kell!" Face yelled in warning, but he knew it was too late.

* * * * * * * *

Kell turned in time to see Turpa rise to his feet and aim a small hold-out blaster at his chest. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Kell reached for his own blaster, but he knew he would never draw it in time. There was the telltale flash and rapport of a blaster firing, and he prepared for the pain of being shot. It never came.

The holdout blaster dropped from Turpa's hand, and he staggered forward a step. Blood seeped from his mouth as he dropped to his knees. With a grunt, he fell on his stomach, revealing a smoldering hole in the middle of his back. A half dozen meters beyond him was Elscol Loro, smoke drifting from the blaster in her left hand. She sketched Kell an abbreviated salute and disappeared behind a building.

After taking a moment to catch his breath and slow his pounding heart, Kell knelt by the body of Turpa. He knew he was dead but felt for a pulse at his neck anyway. When he confirmed his suspicion, he stood and returned at a jog to the small group in the middle of the landing area. "I think it was time that we got out of here," he said to Face.

He bent over, gently picked up Ajene, and headed for the _Skate's _boarding ramp. Once on board, he sat her in one of the chairs in the lounge, examining the wounded thigh. He grabbed a first aid kit from the wall near the entry to the bridge.

"It doesn't look too serious. I'll put a pressure bandage on it to stop the bleeding."

"Where's Wedge?" she asked, glancing around the compartment.

"He's coming. Heblon's taking care of him."

* * * * * * * *

Mirax leaned down and helped Wedge to his feet. When his legs buckled and she couldn't support his full weight, Heblon took his other arm. Face let them go, then walked backward towards the ship to cover their departure. He didn't want any more surprises.

The four of them headed up the boarding ramp of the _Skate_, stopping in the passenger lounge just outside the bridge where Kell and Ajene were.

Mirax headed for the bridge, and Face directed Heblon and Wedge to a couch on the far side of the compartment. But before they reached it, Wedge fell to his hands and knees, dragging Heblon down with him.

Wedge let out a strangled cry and completely collapsed to the deck, landing hard on his right side. He lay there, clutching at his chest, gasping for air. His eyes looked frantically around the cabin.

Heblon rolled him onto his back. He grabbed his wrist and checked his pulse. "This is not good!"

"What is it? What's happening?" Face demanded.

"He's going into cardiac arrest. We have to get him to a medical center right _now_!"

* * * * * * * *

Face headed for the bridge of the _Skate, _Kell following in his wake. The tall Lieutenant dropped into the co-pilot station next to Mirax and studied the screen in front of him.

"Mirax, we have to get out of here right now," Face said. "Head for whichever of our ships is closest. Wedge needs medical assistance as soon as possible."

"We're on our way." She hit the repulsorlifts and the ship rose several meters. She kicked in the engines and headed for the atmosphere. Face headed back into the lounge to see what he could do, leaving Mirax and Kell to take care of the flying.

* * * * * * * *

From a couple of hundred meters away, Tycho saw the _Pulsar Skate_ lift off and head straight for the atmosphere. He had been too busy with the last of the TIEs to see how many people had boarded her. He hoped that everyone had made it.

His comm unit hissed, and Mirax's voice flooded through. "Rogue Leader, this is the _Pulsar Skate_, advising you that as of now our designation will be Rogue One. We need an immediate escort to the nearest ship with medical facilities. This is a medical emergency. Do you copy?"

"I copy, Rogue One. The closest ship is the _Paladin_. Come around to heading six eight mark two and we'll cover for you."

Tycho felt an invisible hand squeeze at his heart and a trickle of ice run through his guts. Mirax's message told him that they had Wedge on board, but calling a medical emergency meant that someone was in bad shape. By the tone of her voice, he knew it had to be Wedge.

"Rogues, form up on the _Pulsar Skate_ and vape _anyone_ who gets in our way!" Tycho ordered.


	29. Chapter 29

****

**29**

Wedge lay on the deck of the _Pulsar Skate_, struggling for air. He gripped painfully onto Heblon's arm with his right hand, and the Lieutenant couldn't help but remember that they had been through this once before.

Ajene limped over and knelt directly across from Heblon. She grabbed Wedge's left hand and held it tightly with both of her own. She looked up at Heblon. "Help him!" She glanced back down at Wedge and their eyes met. "Wedge, don't leave me," she whispered. "Don't give up now. Stay with me!"

Wedge gasped one last time, his face contorting with pain and a trace of panic, then he went limp.

Heblon searched for a pulse and couldn't find one. He ripped open Wedge's flightsuit as far as his waist, then turned to Ajene. "Do you have any medical training?"

She didn't seem to hear him as she clutched Wedge's lifeless hand against her breast bone. "No, please..."

He reached out and touched her shoulder. "Major?"

She managed to tear her eyes off Wedge. "What? I mean, yes. I took the Special Forces survival course."

"Do you know how to perform artificial respiration?"

"Yes...yes, I think so." She gently lay Wedge's hand on the deck.

"Good. I'm going to do ten chest compressions, then you give him two breaths of one second each. Don't forget to let him exhale. We'll follow that pattern for as long as we have to."

He placed his hands over Wedge's heart and began to pump. After five compressions he paused, then performed another five. After the tenth compression, Ajene pinched Wedge's nose and leaned over to breathe for him. His chest slowly rose then fell, but that was it.

While working on Wedge, Heblon looked over his shoulder and saw Face re-enter the lounge. "Face? Tell the pilot of this ship to call ahead to wherever it is she's taking us. Tell them we have a Class One medical emergency and need medical personnel in the hanger when we arrive. He is in full cardiac arrest and we are trying to revive him. They'll know what to do."

Wordlessly, Face left the lounge and headed for the bridge again.

* * * * * * * *

Tycho's X-wing caught up with and passed the _Pulsar Skate_ in seconds as they all headed for space. He headed out in front of the yacht and formed a protective screen with Rogues Two and Four. He searched his screen for the rest of his squadron and any possible TIEs in the area. Rogues Five through Ten were arrayed to the side and rear of the ship, above and below its midline. Wes, Hobbie, and Bror patrolled the space between the _Skate_ and the _Paladin_.

The speakers in his helmet crackled to life again, and he heard Mirax hailing the _Paladin_. Her voice was as close to panic as he had ever heard it.

"_Paladin_, this is the _Pulsar Skate _calling a Class One medical emergency. We are incoming with General Antilles. He is in full cardiac arrest and will need _immediate_ medical assistance. We're heading for your hanger bay, so we're going to need space to land there. ETA is four minutes. Get medics to the hanger right now!"

"This is Captain Assay. The hanger is empty and medics are on their way to the bay. They'll meet you there and we'll be ready. _Paladin_ out."

As their ships punched through the atmosphere, the graceful lines of the Mon Calamari cruiser came into view. There were no enemy ships in their area, and they had a clear line of flight straight to the bigger ship.

Tycho looked at his fuel gauge and noted that he had only about ten more minutes of flying time left. Rogue Squadron had enough fuel to get them back to the _Venture_ and the _Paladin_. Once they refueled, they would head back out to help cover the troops planetside.

He opened the channel to Elscol on Arramsetti. "Rogue Leader to Elscol. Come in, El."

"I read you, Tycho. Where are you?"

"We're escorting the _Skate_ to the _Paladin_. From what I've gathered from their transmissions, Wedge is in pretty bad shape." He paused as a wave of anxiety washed over him. He wanted desperately to be with Wedge, to do anything he could to help, but he and the Rogues had other responsibilities to deal with first. Mirax, Kell, and Face would take good care of him. "We'll be about twenty minutes to refuel and then we'll be heading down to join you. We'll provide you with air support."

"Negative, Tycho. We've got it pretty well covered down here. The populace seems to be happy enough that Tchlinda is gone and are not putting up a fight. And her troops were easily persuaded to give themselves up once they realized the _Querulous_ and her TIEs were gone."

"Are you sure? You may need us to..."

"Tycho, at the moment you flyboys would only be in my way. Get the General to safety."

"Understood, El. You take care down there. I'll contact you with any news on Wedge."

"Thanks, Tycho. I'll be in touch if we need you."

Elscol cut off the transmission, and Tycho flipped back to the squadron frequency. "Rogues, after the _Skate_ goes in, we're heading for the hanger. Rogues Two through Eight, head for the _Venture_ with the _Stardust._ Rogues Nine through Plus, we're heading for the _Paladin."_

A chorus of subdued confirmations came through as they followed the _Skate _on her course to the Mon Cal ship.

Tycho just hoped they reached it in time to save Wedge.

* * * * * * * *

Sweat was beginning to drip off the end of Heblon's nose as he continued to compress Wedge's chest. The wound on his left shoulder was throbbing and blood was beginning to soak through his gray green uniform jacket, but he refused to give in.

Ajene continued to breathe for Wedge. Her expression was equally determined as she counted the compressions and prepared to ventilate his lungs again. Her distress over Wedge's condition had been replaced by a calm determination as she concentrated on the task at hand. Heblon could see why Wedge cared so much for her. She was a strong, capable woman. _Not to mention beautiful._

"Wait, I think he's breathing on his own," she said, and Heblon discontinued the compressions.

Ajene leaned over Wedge, her ear hovering just above his mouth. Heblon felt at his neck for a pulse. There was one, but he almost missed it because it was so weak. "He's got a pulse. Is he breathing on his own?"

"I think so. But it's very shallow and irregular." She made sure that Wedge's head was tilted back, keeping his airway as open as possible.

"Okay, you monitor his breathing while I keep track of his pulse. If there is any change, we may need to start CPR again."

"Understood." She crouched down on the deck, keeping her face near Wedge's, her entire attention on him. Heblon kept a close watch on his pulse.

A few moments later, Face reappeared. He looked from Heblon to Ajene, who was practically lying on the floor. Concern moved across his face, one of the first times that Heblon had seen him drop his ever-present mask. "Is he..."

"He's hanging on. Just barely. Are we close?"

"We're approaching the _Paladin_ and should be landing in a minute. They have medics in the bay waiting for you. Are _you_ okay?"

"I'll be fine." Heblon swiped at the sweat on his forehead with the back of his right hand. He suddenly felt lightheaded and leaned on a nearby chair. There was something wet in his other hand, and he swallowed hard when he realized it was his own blood running down from his wound.

He found himself fighting to stay conscious.A voice bellowed in his head. _Come on. Don't give up now! Look at Wedge. He's survived worse than your scratch!_

He hadn't seen Face move, but suddenly the Wraith was standing in front of him. "Heblon? Heblon!"

"I'm okay." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His mind began to clear as he concentrated on the pain in his shoulder. It was his anchor and kept him focused.

A vibration ran through the deck beneath him, and he recognized the rumble of repulsorlifts. Kell Tainer appeared from the bridge and approached them. "We're here." He glanced over at Wedge, who still lay motionless in the middle of the lounge. Ajene had taken his left hand again and lay her free hand over his heart.

There was a _thump_ as the _Skate_ landed on the deck of the _Paladin._ Even before the engines had completely shut down, Mirax came flying out of the bridge. She stopped abruptly as she saw Wedge and visibly struggled to keep control of her emotions as she headed for the egress hatch. She slapped a control and the ramp groaned as it lowered.

Then a brief shroud of silence descended over the small group.

* * * * * * * *

The silence in the cabin was broken as the _Paladin_'s medics entered the lounge. There was a blur of motion as the compartment filled with people, droids, and equipment.

Ajene let go of Wedge's hand and slowly backed away to give the medtechs the room they needed to treat him. She wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against a bulkhead. A medic approached and she waved him off.

"But we must treat your wound."

"Look after the General. I'll make my own way to the medical bay." She managed to put enough of an edge into her voice that the medic backed away.

She watched as Wedge was gently placed on a repulsor bed. There were at least six people huddled around him, as well as several pieces of technology that she didn't recognize. They evaluated his wounds and attempted to stabilize his condition before moving him out into the hanger. She couldn't help but notice how helpless he looked just lying there.

She saw Kell and Face help Heblon to his feet and two medics approach to assess his injury. He managed to tell them about the injection he had given to Wedge and his general medical condition. They quickly passed the information on to the physicians working on him.

The group slowly made their way out of the lounge and down the ramp into the hanger bay. Heblon walked under his own power between Face and Kell, followed closely by a medical technician. Mirax followed just behind the repulsor bed with Wedge. Ajene remained where she was, unable to face the commotion in the hanger just yet.


	30. Chapter 30

**30**

The hanger bay was awash in the sound of repulsorlifts as half of Rogue Squadron arrived minutes after the _Pulsar Skate_. It was a tight squeeze for the six X-wings, but they entered in pairs, an impressive display of precision flying, and managed to land wingtip to wingtip around the_ Skate_.

Tycho's and Corran's ships were the first to touch down. Tycho was first out of his ship, recklessly vaulting to the deck and heading straight for the knot of medics and technicians surrounding Wedge. He managed to force his way through the swarm and caught sight of Wedge. His heart sank as he saw the pale, thin figure on the bed, covered in sensors and tubes.

He turned on the nearest medic. "How is he?" he asked, not really sure that he wanted to hear the answer.

The small medic looked up at Tycho, studying him closely in an attempt to figure out who he was. Once his gaze found his rank insignia, he decided to cooperate. "We have managed to stabilize his vital signs enough to be able to safely dunk him in bacta. But the next few hours will be critical. We'll keep you updated." The medic pushed by him, following the rest of his team as they headed for the hatch leading to the rest of the ship.

Tycho swallowed past the lump forming in his throat. His mind flashed back to his conversation with Wes, how they had spoken about how Wedge always managed to beat unimaginable odds.

He hoped that this time his luck hadn't run out.

* * * * * * * *

Corran reached Mirax and enfolded his wife in a hug. She clung to him as they followed in the wake of the medics. He saw some of the tightness in Tycho's face as their eyes met. In answer to his silent question, Tycho shrugged and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

Corran closed his eyes and offered a silent prayer for their friend.

* * * * * * * *

Ajene remained in the _Skate's_ passenger lounge as everyone else flooded out into the hanger.

Her body felt numb, and she wrapped her arms tighter around herself. She looked down at the deck where Wedge had been lying a few minutes before. A smear of blood had formed an outline of his back and she had to look away.

Without conscious thought she limped towards the hatch and down the ramp, stopping once she reached the deck. She watched as the collection of people surrounding Wedge moved towards the exit at the far side.

She saw Corran Horn reach his wife and hold her close to him. She also caught Tycho Celchu, after speaking with a medtech, glancing over at the two of them to give a slight shake of his head.

Five day's worth of stress and worry erupted from deep within Ajene, threatening to overwhelm her. As the tears began to well up in her eyes, she realized this was the first time she had allowed herself to cry, _to feel_, since Wedge had been taken from her.

She involuntarily dropped to her knees, her body racked with sobs. Her arms wrapped around her midsection again as the pent-up emotion poured from her.

A pair of booted feet appeared in front of her. Through a blur of tears she could see the orange knees of a flightsuit as a pilot knelt in front of her, then wrapped his arms around her. She clung to him, her face buried in his chest, finding comfort and warmth to combat the emotions that threatened to drown her. He held her close, rubbing his hand up and down her back as she wept.

After a few minutes, she began to pull away from him. She looked up at the pilot for the first time and was surprised as she looked into the face of Wes Janson. He gave her a look of encouragement, sympathy passing through his deep blue eyes. "He's going to be okay. I know it." He reached up with both hands and wiped at the last of the tears on her cheeks with his thumbs.

She sniffed and took a deep breath. "I hope so."

As they knelt on the deck, knee to knee, he took her hands in his. "Come on. Everyone will be heading for the medical bay. Wedge will need you there. And if I don't make sure someone looks at that wound, Wedge will crawl out of the tank and kill me."

He gently pulled her to her feet and she let him support her arm and guide her out of the hangar. 


	31. Chapter 31

****

**31**

Heblon grumbled about the fuss being made over his shoulder. The medics had wanted to dunk him in bacta, but he had flat out refused. He knew that the wound was not severe and as soon as the bleeding was stopped, it would heal just fine

Ajene Tuvora sat three beds over from Heblon with her back to him, a fraction closer to the bacta tank in the middle of the room than he was. A technician applied fresh bacta bandages to the wound on her leg, and she winced as pressure was applied to the area.

She looked over as Wedge was let down into the tank with only a small splash. A man with a round, youthful face and a tangle of brown hair stood beside her, his attention split between her and Wedge.

As soon as the medics had found out that Heblon was a physician, he had been questioned in more detail about Wedge's condition. They had taken his information and used it to treat him before preparing him for his dip in the bacta tank.

Just as Wedge was lowered into the tank, a group of pilots entered the room, accompanied by the two Wraiths and the captain of the ship that had pulled them off the planet. The man with the Major gave her hand a squeeze, then moved to join the group, while the dark-haired female captain moved over to stand with Ajene. The two women spoke together in hushed tones.

One of the pilots, the only one dressed in a green flightsuit instead of the orange the rest wore, left the group and approached the dark-haired woman. Heblon took a closer look at the young pilot. He couldn't help but feel there was something about him that seemed...familiar.

As he searched his memory for the man, their eyes met. Heblon thought he saw recognition pass through the other man's eyes as well, and he was sure that somehow, somewhere, they had already met.

* * * * * * * *

Standing amongst several members of Rogue Squadron, Corran shuddered. Memories flooded into his mind as he looked into the bacta tank. Since he had joined the squadron, he had spent more time floating in bacta than he cared to remember. He turned away and headed back towards Ajene and his wife.

He came up behind Mirax, slipping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. As the two women conversed quietly, he glanced around the room. It was only then that he noticed the older man over Ajene's shoulder.

"I know him," he said aloud, more to himself than anyone else.

Ajene looked at him. "Know who?"

"That man over there." Corran replied, nodding in the older man's direction. Faint recognition seemed to pass through the man's blue eyes as he made eye contact with him.

Ajene twisted around to look, then turned back to face Corran and Mirax. "I think his name's Heblon. He's the Imperial who helped on the planet and took care of Wedge while he was a prisoner."

Corran pulled away from Mirax, and she turned to look at him. "What is it? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"That's him. That's the man I felt in my vision."

"Go and talk to him," Mirax said. But Corran just shook his head.

Before Mirax could say anything more, Heblon hopped off the bed he was sitting on and approached the three of them. He glanced at Corran briefly, then placed a hand on Ajene's shoulder.

"How are you doing, Major?"

Ajene looked over at the ex-Imperial, then at the bacta tank. "I'll feel much better when he gets out of that tank."

Heblon nodded, then turned to Corran and his wife. He extended his hand to Mirax. "Thanks for the ride."

"You're welcome. Thank _you_ for caring for Wedge." She released his hand and pointed to herself, then Corran. "I'm Mirax Terrik Horn, and this is my husband, Corran Horn of Rogue Squadron."

Heblon had been midway through offering his hand to Corran when he hesitated at the mention of his name. He managed to mostly cover his surprise and shook Corran's hand.

Corran smiled weakly at him. "I think, in a way, we've already met."

Heblon's eyes narrowed as he seemed to look through Corran instead of at him. "Wedge was right. You _were_ with him last night."

"Sort of."

Heblon paused, as he seemed to struggle with his thoughts. "You touched my mind as well."

Corran made a face and ran a hand through his hair. "You could say that, I suppose, although I don't really understand what happened myself. I don't have that much control over my power. But when I felt Wedge die, you were the only other person I could sense. In desperation I latched onto you and looked at him through your eyes."

"And gave me one hell of a headache," Heblon said, smiling for the first time.

"Me, too," Mirax added, slipping her hand into Corran's.

"Sorry about that. I'll have to refine my technique, I guess." Corran gave his wife's hand a squeeze, then fixed a green eyed gaze on Heblon. "What I do know is that you saved Wedge's life, and for that we're all indebted to you."

"I followed my conscience, no more, " he said, bowing his head slightly.

Before Corran could respond, one of the medics made a commotion about all of the people in the room. "You can't _all_ be in here. If you do not need medical treatment, please leave. We will keep you all updated on General Antilles' condition."

There were protests throughout the room, but the technicians slowly herded everyone out of the medical bay, leaving Heblon and Ajene to stare into the tank where Wedge floated and bobbed.

* * * * * * * *

The hologram of Admiral Ackbar wavered and crackled because of the great distance it had to travel to reach Tycho on the _Paladin_ as it circled Arramsetti III. "Colonel Celchu, my congratulations on your victory today. How is the General?"

"The Imps were pretty rough on him, Admiral. As far as I know, he is about to be dunked in a bacta tank. The medics said that it could be touch and go for the next few hours, but I'm confident that he'll pull through. Especially since the bacta he is being treated with is of Thyferran purity."

The Mon Calamari's head dipped, his eyelids sliding down to cover half of his large eyes. Tycho recognized the Mon Calamari sigh of relief. "Admiral, I contacted you to let you know that we had retrieved Wedge, but he may need more care than we can provide for him here. I'm not sure the planet is stable enough for us to take him down there or to let us leave orbit. And there is always the possibility that the _Querulous_ could come back." He glanced at his hands, then back up at the Admiral. "Sir, we need to get Wedge to proper medical facilities but we find ourselves in a position where we can't leave the system. I'm wondering if we've bitten off more than we can chew this time."

There was a pause before Ackbar replied as the transmission was beamed the lightyears to Coruscant. "It would seem that you have a puzzle on your hands, Colonel. One which, fortunately, I may have an answer for." The Admiral's mouth opened wide in a grin. "As it turns out, there is a small fleet of about eight Mon Calamari and New Republic ships two hours out from Arramsetti III. They are on maneuvers in the Califon System, training for a future mission. Purely by coincidence, of course. I can have orders written up for them to be transferred to Arramsetti inside three hours. That would mean you would only have to hold the planet for five, possibly six hours before they come in to reinforce your fleet. At that point, both the Thyferran Home Defense ships and the _Errant Venture_ will be free to leave the system and transport the General to better facilities."

Tycho looked at the Admiral in disbelief. His stomach churned as a realization dawned on him, one that he should have seen days before. "That was your plan all along, wasn't it. You knew that as soon as we took the planet, the New Republic would move in and take over. You wanted to make this entire mission look like it was planned from the very beginning by the Council."

"I fear that keeping anything hidden from both you and General Antilles is like trying to hold back the tide. Impossible, and a waste of energy." The Admiral shook his head before continuing. "The Council knew that it would not be able to gather enough support to send a fleet out to a small system like Arramsetti, especially to topple one Moff who had not yet threatened to move outside of her system. But when Tchlinda abducted Wedge, I managed to convince them to send you and the Rogues. The way they saw it, if you failed, they could have said that it was a non-sanctioned mission and that you were acting independently. They would not have been forced to take the blame for Rogue Squadron's failure. However, they canand_ will _take credit for your success."

Tycho growled and ground his teeth, bunching the muscles of his jaw. The New Republic had made a habit of using him this way. They had first asked him to go on a covert operation to Imperial Center, where he was captured by the Empire and tortured. Once he managed to escape that nightmare, another had begun.

He had been held on what they later discovered was a Super Star Destroyer called _Lusankya_, a facility run by the late Ysanne Isard and known for turning people into walking time bombs. Even though they had failed to reprogram him, he hadn't been trusted from that time forward. Not long after the fall of Coruscant, he had been put on trial for the murder of Corran Horn and treason against the New Republic in order to pacify segments of the then fragile Republic. He was eventually cleared of the charges, in large part due to Corran's return from the grave, and escaped a death sentence.

Tycho had accepted the hardships placed on him then because he saw it as his duty to the New Republic. But this time was different. Not only had the Council used him, but they had put Wedge, Rogue Squadron, and their friends, in danger. And _that_ he could not accept.

Anger began to rise in him, and he tried his best to not let it seep into his voice. But it didn't work. "Let me get this straight. You put Wedge's life in further danger, not to mention our own, by not sending sufficient ships to take a target that you _wanted_ taken in the first place?" He paused, the conspiracy becoming more and more clear in his mind. "Wedge's ambush just moved up an already established timetable forward."

The commander of the New Republic Armed Forces nodded. "I am sorry that it had to be this way. But I knew you could succeed without our help. I had complete faith in you and your pilots."

Tycho's hands balled into fists. He consciously opened them and lay them palm down on the top of the table at which he sat. He couldn't even bring himself to look up at the holo of his commanding officer.

"I can understand your frustration, Colonel. Now you know why your orders were so broad from the beginning. If you had managed to free Wedge without having to take the planet, then so much the better. But you did take the planet and, as always, you did an excellent job with limited resources. Rogue Squadron did what needed to be done."

Tycho's head shot up. "We did what had to be done and I lost a number of good people doing it! I am not sure their families will be as pleased with the results as you are, Admiral."

"Casualties are unfortunately a part of war, Colonel."

"So are victims." Tycho snarled to himself. "We'll patrol the area until your 'fleet' gets here, Admiral. Celchu out."

He slammed his fist down on the control that closed the channel and the hologram of Ackbar winked out. But not before Tycho saw a look of surprise settle on the Admiral's face. 


	32. Chapter 32

**32**

The anger Tycho had felt towards Ackbar had dissolved beneath his sense of duty. He _had_ sworn an oath to the Alliance, then the New Republic, and he was obliged to follow orders given to him by his superiors. He didn't always agree with those orders, but he followed them. Even if it meant sacrificing himself or his pilots. This case was no different.

He was sure that the Council and Admiral Ackbar believed they were doing what needed to be done for the good of the New Republic. And he also knew that they were privy to all kinds of details that he, as only a Colonel, was not. There were most likely reasons that he would never know of for what they had done.

_And Admiral Ackbar did everything he could to help us, including letting us have Wes, Hobbie and the Wraiths. He _is_ on our side._

Truth be told, Tycho was sick of politics. Whenever he gave it any real thought, he always ended up going around in circles. _And that is why I am a pilot and not a politician._

Tycho looked out at the pilots arrayed before him in the small briefing room on the _Paladin._ Most of the pilots had just arrived from the _Venture_ in Rogue Squadron's shuttle and would be returning the same way after the meeting. They looked tired and a little ragged, especially with the loss of Arata Voran and the uncertainty of Wedge's future hanging over their victory.

The five surviving pilots of_ Venture_ Squadron had joined them and would remain under Tycho's command until their small fleet headed for Thyferra. Face and Kell were also in attendance, sitting together at the back of the room, apart from the rest of the group. Tycho had managed to get a quick report from them before holding the meeting. He didn't know how the ground mission would have turned out if not for those two men.

Ajene Tuvora remained in the medical bay, mostly because of the wound to her leg, but also because she refused to leave Wedge. Tycho could understand that. He would speak with her later.

"I'm sorry to drag you all here so soon after our return, especially since you would all like some rest and to stay close to Wedge, but I wanted to let you all know where we stand and how we will be proceeding from here." Tycho took a deep breath, knowing this would not go over well. "I am afraid that we are going to be heading out on patrol in about forty-five minutes, which is the time it will take to get our ships fueled and re-armed."

A loud groan, starting with Gavin and working its way through the rest of the pilots, pulsed through the room. Tycho held up his hands to forestall further arguments. "I know, I know. But there are still pockets of resistance on the planet, and we are going to be strafing some targets for Elscol and the ground teams. Also, a six ship element made up of Venture Squadron and commanded by Mr. Jace will remain on patrol in orbit in case any ships decide to come in to take a closer look at what is happening in the system."

Off to the left of the room, an Ensign in the blue of the Thyferran Home Defense Corps entered through the side hatch and looked over towards Tycho. She stopped several meters from him and cleared her throat to get his attention. When he glanced over, she beckoned to him. He joined her by the door and she whispered a message in his ear. He nodded to her, and she turned and left the room the way she had come.

Tycho returned to the center of the room, letting out a long breath as he went. He looked up and smiled at his pilots. "I've just had some good news. The Thyferran medics have pronounced that Wedge is out of danger. He should make a full recovery and be coming out of the tank in two or three days.

A cheer went up, starting this time with Wes Janson, and quickly spreading. It washed over Tycho, easing some of the strain that he felt across his shoulders and neck. He could see the same relief in Corran as he slumped back into his seat.

Tycho waited a few moments, then held up a hand in an attempt to return everyone's attention to him. "On that note, here are our plans for the foreseeable future. I have spoken with Admiral Ackbar and he is sending in a small fleet to take possession of the planet. That means that we are released from duty here and will be escorting the _Paladin_,_ Provider, _and the _Errant Venture_ to Thyferra. There, Wedge will continue to undergo treatment. We'll get some downtime there and stay for at least a week before returning to Coruscant and our regular assigned duties."

"So, if there are no questions or comments..." He glanced around the room, making eye contact with each pilot. "No? Then head for your ships. Form up by flight off the _Paladin,_ and Rogue Control will supply data as to where we will be heading. Dismissed."

As the pilots all rose to leave, Tycho caught Face's eye and waved him over. Kell trailed behind him, accepting a handshake and a few words from Wes Janson as he passed him.

"Face, I just wanted to talk to you for a few minutes if I could," Tycho said.

The former actor smiled. "Well, it's not like we have anywhere else to go. Since we don't have any ships, we can't go flying with you."

"True. Will you be coming with us to Thyferra or heading back to Coruscant?"

"Back to Coruscant. We're kind of on loan, you know. General Cracken has arranged for a freighter to swing by and pick us up. It should be here in about two hours or so."

"Well, I just wanted to thank you for putting your lives on the line. What you did was...well, stupid, really. But it worked." Tycho let his face droop into a fair imitation of the scowl that Wedge was so practiced at giving. "Wedge was right, you Wraiths never do anything the easy way."

Face feigned a hurt expression, but they all laughed. "If you ask me, Heblon deserves most of the credit," he said. "Without him, Wedge would have been dead days ago."

Tycho thought hard, trying to place the name. He looked from Face to Kell then back again. "Who's Heblon?"

Face frowned as he looked at Tycho. "He's the Imperial who was working for us on the inside. You haven't met him yet?"

Tycho shook his head. "No, I haven't. I know that Elscol kept talking about the man on the inside, but she never mentioned him by name. Possibly a security precaution. I mean, she never even told us about you two."

Kell chuckled, then crossed his long arms across his chest and leaned on the edge of a table. "Heblon's the one that was taking care of Wedge the whole time. He used to be a doctor, which is a good thing, with the way they treated the General down there."

Face nodded towards the door. "He should still be in the medical bay if you want to meet him. He was hit in the shoulder when Tchlinda got the drop on us by the monument. From my vantage point, it looked like he stepped in front of a bolt meant for Wedge."

"The medical bay is my next stop. I want to check on Ajene and Wedge anyway." He offered Face, then Kell his hand, and both men took it. "The next time you see General Cracken, give him my thanks."

"Will do." Face said as he headed for the door behind Kell. With a jaunty wave, he was gone.

Tycho looked at his chrono. He had about twenty minutes before he would have to climb back into his X-wing, so he headed straight for the medical bay. 


	33. Chapter 33

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**33**

Tycho leaned against the hatchway of the small, dimly lit medical bay. It was the same room that he had been in just a couple of days before when Hobbie had been the one in the bacta tank. Now another of his friends was floating in the pale green liquid.

With a deep breath, he pushed off the door jamb and entered the room. He walked over to where a tall, well built man stood in half an Imperial uniform, with his jacket and undershirt missing and replaced by a hospital tunic. He was one of the few people in the quiet room.

Techs were off to one side, reviewing data as it scrolled across a dozen screens. Ajene was asleep on one of the beds on the far side of the room. The glow of soft green light from the bacta tank gave her copper hair peculiar highlights.

Tycho returned his attention to the former Imperial Lieutenant, who was staring into the tank. But Tycho wasn't sure if he was really looking at Wedge. He was deep in thought and seemed startled when he finally noticed Tycho. He nodded to him and returned his attention to the tank.

"I'm told you were wounded," Tycho said. "How're you doing?"

"All right. They wanted to dunk me in a tank as well, but I refused. A couple of bacta bandages and some pain medication and I'm good as new."

Tycho smiled at the contemptuous tone in his voice. _Doctors are always the worst patients._

"I don't think we've met," the man continued, finally turning to face Tycho. "I'm Tonar Heblon."

He held out his hand and Tycho gave it a firm shake. He noticed that Heblon had purposely chosen not to use his rank, so he followed suit. "Tycho Celchu."

Tycho held on to Heblon's hand a few moments longer than necessary, covering it with his other hand. "I wanted to thank you for taking care of Wedge. You took a huge risk for him. Not to mention a hit to the shoulder, I hear."

Tycho finally released Heblon's hand, and the older man shrugged. The movement was made a little awkward by his wound. "It was something I had to do. I'm just glad I was finally able to be of some use."

There was a minute or two of silence between them, the only sound in the room the bubbling of the bacta.

"How long has he been in the tank?" Tycho eventually asked.

"About an hour and a half. He seems to be responding well to the treatment. The medics say that he should make a full recovery with no lasting physical side-effects."

"I'm glad to hear that," Tycho said as he approached the tank and laid a hand on it. He felt warmth bleed through the transparisteel and couldn't help but remember his own time spent bobbing in bacta. He guessed it was something that all pilots did at some point or another.

He looked at Wedge as he hung there, suspended in the neutral buoyancy of the bubbles. His face was all but obscured by the breathing apparatus and sensors that had been placed on his chest and arms to monitor his life signs. Tycho could see some of the wounds on his back as he twisted and turned in the currents. It was a grisly sight.

Tycho spun and returned his attention to Heblon. "I'll be heading out on a patrol with the squadron in ten minutes or so. A fleet should be arriving in another six hours, and then the _Paladin_ and _Provider_ will be heading out to Thyferra with Rogue Squadron and the _Venture_. Wedge's treatment will continue there, and then the squadron will escort him back to Coruscant."

"You want to know if I want to stay here or return with you to the New Republic."

"Yes."

"It has been a long time since I have been able to make my own choices." Heblon walked slowly over to the tank, coming up to Tycho's right.

The Colonel winced. "I'm not sure how much of a choice you have in this situation. Intelligence will want to debrief you as soon as possible, especially with the _Querulous_ still out there somewhere. But after that, I'm sure that the New Republic will welcome you. You will be able to go anywhere you want. You could even practice medicine again."

"It's an idea that has been running through my mind with increasing frequency recently. Ever since Wedge landed in my lap." He nodded to the man in the tank who had most likely changed Heblon's life forever. "He made me re-evaluate everything about myself and the life I was leading. Because of him I was challenged by choices that I never thought I would have the chance to make."

"So you _want_ to come with us, then?"

Heblon looked at the tank, then down at Tycho. "Yes."

Tycho smiled. "I'll talk to command to make the necessary arrangements." He offered his hand to him again. "Looks like Wedge has given you a chance to start your life over again. Welcome to the New Republic."

Tycho released his hand, then moved to leave. He stopped and turned back towards Heblon just before reaching the door, and saw him touch the transparisteel of the tank. He could have sworn he heard Heblon say something towards Wedge in the tank. It sounded very much like "My turn to thank _you_, I guess."

Tycho shrugged and headed off at a jog towards the hanger bay where his X-wing awaited him.

* * * * * * * *

Corran's X-wing swung over the hull of the New Republic Star Destroyer _Reliance_. He inverted, his canopy facing the top of the ship, then headed down and under the V-shaped bow, completing a lazy loop. He evened out and headed back towards the _Paladin_.

He stifled a yawn with the back of his gloved hand, and his ship towards the hanger. The rest of Three Flight had already gone in ahead of him.

It had been about seven hours since they had gotten Wedge off the planet. For the last four of those hours, Rogue Squadron had been flying patrol, occasionally hitting ground targets as Elscol and her group found pockets of resistance on the planet. Between that and the extended dogfight over the planet, he felt as if he hadn't slept in weeks.

Since the arrival of the New Republic an hour before, it was time for the two Mon Calamari cruisers, as well as the _Errant Venture,_ to head back to Thyferra. There, Wedge would continue his recovery and Rogue Squadron would get some well-earned downtime before heading back to Coruscant and their regular duties.

Nawara Ven's voice boomed through Corran's comm unit, startling him. "Rogue Nine, Control here. We're all waiting on you, Corran. When you're done with your fancy flying, can you get your ship back in here?" There was a tone of amusement in Nawara's voice, and Corran couldn't help but smile.

"Nine here. I'm making my approach now."

"Be careful Nine. Pretty crowded in there."

"Thanks for the warning, Control. I'll keep my eyes open." _At least I'll try._

Although there was much more space available in the _Venture's_ hanger, Corran, Tycho, Hobbie, and Wes had insisted on staying on the _Paladin_, wanting to stay close to Wedge during the journey to Thyferra. Ajene, Mirax, and the _Skate_ were also staying on board. _I'd like to meet the nerf for brains who'd try to keep me from my wife!_

The rest of the squadron, amidst some grumbling, was docking with the _Venture,_ and they would all rendezvous on Thyferra once they reached it.

Corran's ship passed through the magcon field and he switched to repulsorlifts. Using his etheric rudder pedals, he maneuvered his X-wing towards a free space to the left of the _Pulsar Skate,_ setting it down gently on the deck.

His canopy cracked and hissed as the pocket of atmosphere within his cockpit was released. He removed his helmet and gloves before attacking his stinging eyes with his fingers. _Yup, I definitely gotta get some sleep._

As a tech approached with a ladder, he saw Mirax come running across the hanger, threading her way past machinery and under the S-foils of the three other X-wings. Just as he reached the bottom of the ladder, she reached his fighter. She launched herself into his arms, nearly knocking him over, and kissed him fiercely on the mouth. He kissed her back, then took her hands in his. "How's Wedge doing?"

"Better." She stood at arm's length and looked at him. "You, however, look terrible."

"Thanks, sweetheart. I always look forward to your warm welcomes." He rubbed at his temples. He was getting a headache, perhaps in part because the same melody kept running through his mind, over and over again.

She slapped him across the belly. "I mean you look tired. Let's get you to bed." She took his hand and led him across the hanger.

"That's all you ever think about. Getting me into bed," he said as he staggered along behind her.

Mirax gave him a crooked grin over her shoulder. "I was right all those years ago when we first met. All you flyboys ever think about is sex." They entered the corridor that led to the rest of the ship and she looked over at him. "What are you humming? It sounds familiar."

"I have this stupid tune stuck in my head and I can't get rid of it. It's been there off and on for the last day or so."

"I hate that."

"Me, too. Especially since I don't even know what song it is."

Reaching the quarters that had been assigned to them, Corran opened the door and followed Mirax in. He didn't even wait to take off his flightsuit, dropping face first onto the bed. He felt a slight vibration as she dropped down onto the bed beside him.

"Hum a couple of bars."

He rolled onto his side and looked at her as she sat cross-legged on the bunk. "You've heard me sing. Are you really sure you want me to?"

"It sounded familiar. Maybe if I can figure out what it is, we can drive it from your thick skull."

"Worth a try, I guess." He hummed for a few seconds as Mirax listened. She looked deep in thought, then recognition crossed her features.

"Now I know where I've heard it before. It's a Corellian lullaby."

"A lullaby?" Corran rolled his eyes. "Even my brain is telling me that it's time to sleep."

"You don't understand. That specific lullaby...Zena Antilles used to sing it to Wedge and I sometimes at bedtime when we were kids."

Corran sat up. "Wedge's mom?" He thought for a moment, then groaned and fell back into his pillow. "Now I remember. When I sensed Wedge in my dream, he was thinking about his mother and she was singing that lullaby. That must be where I picked it up."

Mirax lay down beside Corran, laying her head on his chest. "Wedge misses his parents a lot. His thoughts usually turn to them when he's depressed. Or hurt."

"I know how he feels."

She twisted her head to look up at him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you think about your father."

He stroked her hair with his hand. "It's okay. His death still hurts, but its bearable. And I know that when I was being held prisoner on the _Lusankya_, I thought a lot about him. And about you."

She moved up towards him and kissed him. "Let's see what I can do to make sure that you always think of me."

She reached past his shoulder and turned off the light. 


	34. Chapter 34

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**34**

Heblon sat by Wedge's bacta tank in the main Sandostan medical facility on Thyferra. It was the first time in the last thirty-six hours that he had been able to check in on Wedge. General Cracken of New Republic Intelligence had arrived in the system about the same time as Rogue Squadron and the three capital ships in their miniature battle group. Heblon had immediately been segregated from the rest of them to be debriefed.

He had felt like every detail of his life for the past ten years or so had been meticulously picked out of his brain. Intelligence was gaining invaluable knowledge about the remnants of the Empire, their fleet strength, supply routes, chain of command, and other minor details. For Heblon, it only served to confirm how misdirected his life had become. He felt a tremendous amount of regret for all the lost years.

Eventually Cracken and his agents decided what Heblon already knew. He was no threat to the New Republic. So they had let him go. He had headed directly to the medical facility to check on Wedge's progress with the technicians. They told him that they would be removing him from the tank in an hour or two, so he decided to wait around, despite the lateness of the hour, to make sure that all went well. Wedge was, after all, _his_ patient.

_And my friend._ He smiled at that thought.

"What are you smiling about?"

Heblon jumped, then looked to his left and saw Ajene leaning against the far wall of the room. She was wearing a loose fitting blue jumpsuit with the sleeves rolled up so it would fit her. "I was just thinking about something Wedge said to me a few days ago, just after he..." He stopped short, suddenly unwilling to finish the sentence in case the mention of Wedge's first brush with death would somehow jinx them.

"Just after he what? Ajene asked.

"Nothing."

"So what did he say?" She moved over and sat down beside him on the small bench.

"He said that I was a friend of his, whether I liked it or not."

Ajene smiled, a sparkle in her dazzling green eyes. "That sounds like something Wedge would say."

Heblon chuckled to himself and Ajene studied him closely. "Now what's funny?"

"I was going to say something, but realized in time how absurdly trite it sounded."

"Well now I have to know," Ajene said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Heblon hesitated, but recognized that he had aroused her curiosity, passing the point of no return, so he continued. "I was just thinking how I never really knew that a man like Wedge existed. And now I find there are hundreds, probably thousands of him throughout the New Republic. People like you, Face, or Kell. Like Colonel Celchu and the rest of the Rogues. People putting their lives on the line every day so that the rest of the galaxy can live out their own."

She seemed to think about that for a moment, pulling at the turn up of her sleeve before twisting to look at him. "You may not believe it, Heblon, but you are as much a hero as they are."

He slowly shook his head, not wanting to look into her intense green eyes. "I don't think so, Major."

"First of all, please call me Ajene. As for the hero bit, what you did on the planet was extremely brave. If you had been the typical Imperial, you would have watched Wedge die with a smile on your face. Instead you did everything you could to help him." She reached out and took his hand in hers, and he finally turned to face her. "I want to thank you for bringing him back to me."

He cleared his throat, not sure how to respond to her heartfelt gratitude. He felt his face flush. "Well, you're welcome. And I guess you should call me Tonar."

"Thank you, Tonar." She squeezed his hand then let it go, standing and walking over to the tank. Heblon watched her as she touched the transparisteel window with her hand, as close to Wedge as she was able to get.

He felt a smile tug at the corners of his mouth and he shook his head. When he had first met Ajene, he had thought she was lucky to have someone like Wedge. But he was quickly starting to believe that Wedge was lucky to have found _her_. 


	35. Chapter 35

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**35**

Ajene sat at Wedge's bedside in a comfortable, padded chair that one of the medical staff had found for her. In fact it was so comfortable that she had to stretch her arms above her head in an attempt to fight off the sleep that threatened to overtake her. She wanted to be awake and alert when Wedge woke up.

He had been taken from the tank six hours before, in the middle of the Thyferran night, with only herself and Heblon present. The rest of the squadron would have wanted to be there, but the small private room that the tank was in could not accommodate many more people. And the crush of bodies might not have been good for Wedge. Had he been conscious.

That was why Ajene had been surprised when the chief medical technician had announced that they were pulling Wedge from the tank. "But he hasn't regained consciousness," she said.

The gray haired technician just nodded. "The bacta we use is of high purity. It heals the body extremely quickly. Sometimes too quickly. The injuries that General Antilles suffered were severe and traumatic, and time is required for his mind to catch up with his body." He placed a hand on Ajene's shoulder. "He'll come around when he's ready."

A room in the medical building, somewhat isolated from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the facility, was set aside for Wedge's convalescence. That was where Ajene found herself, alone with him. Heblon had wanted to stay, but he looked tired after his long debriefing, so Ajene had told him that she would call him if anything changed.

She finished stretching and let her hands fall into her lap. She looked at Wedge, who remained in the same position he had crawled into when they had placed him in the bed. He had slowly pulled his knees up to his chest, his arms wrapping around his belly, his back to her.

Heblon said that the position was one that Wedge had adopted often while he was injured. It seemed to be a comfortable way for him to lie, especially after the wounds inflicted on his back. It also seemed to give him an added sense of security. To Ajene it made Wedge look almost childlike, and her heart ached at the thought of what he had been through.

While she had been waiting for Wedge to be pulled from the tank, she had made a point to ask Heblon about what had happened to Wedge on the planet, hoping that she would better understand how to help him in his recovery if she knew what he had experienced. Heblon had refused at first, obviously not wanting to cause her distress, but she had pressed the point. So he had given her as many details as he could. She shuddered at the depth of Tchlinda and Turpa's cruelty.

Her attention was brought back to the bed as Wedge stirred. He muttered something and he seemed to constrict into an even tighter ball.

"Wedge?" she whispered as she leaned over him.

"No...no...please..." he mumbled. His hands came up and covered his face.

Ajene reached out with her left hand and settled it on Wedge's left shoulder. As soon as she made contact with him, his hands dropped from his face, his eyes shot open and he glanced frantically around the room. He retreated from Ajene, crawling backward up the bed until his back hit the durasteel wall and he could go no further. His arms wrapped around his legs and he hid his face in his knees.

Alarmed, and more than a little disturbed, Ajene approached him, gently laying a hand on Wedge's forearm. "Wedge, it's Ajene."

His brown eyes glanced over the top of his knees, and he finally seemed to recognize her. "Ajene?" he whispered.

He leapt forward onto his knees, throwing his arms around her. She was surprised by the sudden move, but held him close, running her hand up and down his spine. Her throat thickened as she realized she could feel every bone in his back through his thin hospital tunic. He had always been slim, but he had lost a lot of weight in the last week.

They clung to each other for a few long minutes, then she slowly pulled away from him. He sat back on the bed, leaning up against the wall, holding her left hand. Despite having been unconscious for days, he looked tired.

"Are you okay?" she asked as he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

He opened his mouth to speak, but all he could manage was a croak. It had, after all, been a number of days since he had used his speaking voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Yeah, I think so. I wasn't sure where I was for a minute and I...I guess I panicked."

She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "An understandable reaction after what's happened. But you're safe here with me."

He glanced around the room. "Speaking of here, where are we?"

"On Thyferra. We came back here after leaving the Arramsetti system. We made the trip on a Thyferran Home Defense Corps ship. You made it in a bacta tank. You spent two days here in a tank until they fished you out about six hours ago. I figure you've been unconscious for about eighty-two hours at least." She paused and brushed some of his hair out of his eyes, then kissed him on the forehead. "How do you feel?"

"Honestly? Surprised to be alive." He smiled up at her, a forced smile to convince her he was okay. She didn't fall for it.

"No, I mean how do you _feel_."

His smile faded and a tremor ran through him as he shivered. He let go of her hand and wrapped his arms protectively around his stomach again. She wondered if he even realized he was doing it. "I can still hear Tchlinda's voice...cold and cruel. She wanted to hurt me for what I had done to her sons. She thought that by making me suffer, she could fill the void left when they died. But nothing she did to me seemed to satisfy her. She...she..." His eyes lost focus and stared off into the distance as painful memories surfaced in his mind.

"She what?" Ajene pushed gently.

Shame and anguish filled his eyes and he glanced down penitently. "She broke me," he confessed quietly. "She caused me so much pain that I truly wanted to give in, to die."

His knees came up towards his chest again and he seemed to withdraw from Ajene, but she refused to let him. When she and Wedge had become involved, she knew that he had built up a set of shields around himself, armoring himself emotionally, and that she would have to break through them. She had begun to get through before his capture and wasn't going to let what Tchlinda did to him prevent her from doing so again.

"Wedge?" When he wouldn't look up at her, she reached out and cupped his face in both of her hands and gently tilted it upwards. "Wedge, you have to believe me when I tell you that she didn't break you. If she had, you wouldn't be here. You would have died down there on that planet and nothing Heblon, I, or anyone could have done would have stopped it. You _fought_ for your life every step of the way. Don't stop now."

His mouth opened then closed again as words failed him. His right hand came up to cover his eyes. Ajene climbed into the bed beside him, wrapping her arms around him, pulling his head down onto her shoulder.

She knew that to get through the emotional turmoil of his traumatic ordeal, he would have to get it all out. She felt his body convulse as he sobbed, anguish pouring from him, and his warm tears flowed against her neck. She hardly knew this Wedge, whose emotions were usually suppressed and carefully hidden. Emotions that most people never even knew he had.

She wanted so much to help him, it hurt to not be able to remove the memories of the last few days from his mind. So she held him tighter, trying to protect and comfort him as much as she could with her presence, if not with her words.

* * * * * * * *

When Wedge awoke from his nightmare, he was shaking and a little unsure where he was. He took in a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to slow his pounding heart and propped himself up against the wall at the head of his bed. He looked around and noticed that Ajene was curled up to his left in a large, cushioned chair.

Slowly he remembered that he was on Thyferra, and a sense of security returned. He recalled the conversation that he and Ajene had had, and how close he had come to sinking into an emotional black hole. She had comforted and consoled him when he was at his most vulnerable, and a lot of the anxiety and humiliation had slowly begun to fade away. He still stood close to the edge, but no longer felt like he was free falling into it.

He knew that it would take a long time for him to forget what Tchlinda had done to him, and the nightmare seemed to confirm that. But he also knew that the more time passed, the more the memories would wane to a point where they wouldn't haunt him or overshadow his life.

He tilted his head from side to side and rotated his shoulders. There was a bit of stiffness in his back and shoulders, he assumed because he hadn't been moving a lot recently. He also felt hungry, which he took to be a good sign. But he knew better than to just suddenly begin ingesting solid food, as it had been many days since he had eaten. He would have to start off slowly or else it might hit his stomach and bounce.

Ajene shifted in her seat and stretched her arms out above her head. She opened her eyes and seemed surprised to see Wedge looking back at her.

"Why didn't you wake me?" she asked as she moved over to his bed.

"I'm just awake myself."

"How do you feel?"

"I'm coping," he answered truthfully. He took her hands in his. "Thanks for before."

She leaned over and kissed him gently on the lips. "It's better that you got it all out. I just want you to feel better."

She kissed him again, more firmly this time, and wrapped her arms around him. He soaked in some of her warmth, beating back the cold and loneliness he was feeling.

From behind her, towards the door, Wedge heard someone clear their throat. "Sorry to interrupt."

Wedge looked over Ajene's shoulder and smiled. "Tycho!"

"I thought I'd check in, General. See if you were up and about."

"Well, I'm up. The about may take a little time." Wedge frowned at the somber look on Tycho's face. He was trying to hide something, but wasn't doing a good job of it. The fact that he used Wedge's rank doubled his suspicion. He looked up at Ajene. "I could really use a glass of water. Could you..."

"No problem." She seemed to sense the seriousness in Tycho as well. She gave Wedge's hand one more squeeze, then turned to leave the room.

Tycho stepped out of the doorway to let Ajene leave, then approached Wedge's bed. "I'm glad you're okay," he said.

"From what little Heblon, Face, and Kell managed to tell me, it sounds like I have you and Elscol to thank for that." Wedge swung his legs over the side of his bunk and stood tentatively, making sure to hold onto the side of the bed. He found his legs sufficiently stable and stood on his own. He offered Tycho his hand, but his friend brushed past it to give him a back-slapping hug.

"Never, ever do this to us again," Tycho said, making sure Wedge was still steady on his feet before releasing him. "You drove Wes to the breaking point. He didn't crack a joke in _days!_"

Wedge let a lazy grin creep onto his face. "You can believe me when I tell you that I never want to go through this experience again." He walked back and forth a couple of times, stretching out muscles that hadn't been used in days, then sat cross legged on his bed. "I've seen that look before, Tycho. You have bad news. Let's have it."

Tycho sighed in resignation. "I didn't want to have to tell you this as soon as you were awake."

"You're a pretty poor actor, Tycho. You've never been very good at hiding anything from me."

"I know." Tycho sat in the chair that Ajene had been sleeping in. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "Arata Voran was killed at Arramsetti III."

Wedge leaned heavily against the wall again as the significance of what Tycho said hit him. The fact that one of his pilots had been killed trying to rescue him hurt Wedge deeply. He hadn't known Arata very well, but his loss still added to the grief he always felt when someone under his command was lost.

_Another pilot to add to the long list of Rogue Squadron's dead. And this time it's because of me._

As guilt set like ferrocrete in his heart, he realized that Tycho had to be feeling the same thing. They had both lost pilots under their command before, but it never got any easier. _The day it does is the day that we're as heartless and cold-blooded as the Empire._

"Wedge, I don't want you to feel bad about this," Tycho began. "All of the Rogues knew what they were getting into and accepted the risk. It's not your fault."

"And it's not yours either, Tycho. So stop beating yourself up over it."

"I haven't..."

Wedge held up a hand to forestall Tycho's argument. "You can stop right there. Both of us know that losing pilots is a part of war, but we're never prepared for the loss of a friend. I've only been back with the group for a short while, so I didn't know Arata as well as you did. You have to be hurting."

"Yeah, I guess." He looked towards the doorway, then back at Wedge. "I do have some good news. We managed to pull your X-wing off Arramsetti before we left the system. Gate, too. They're on the _Venture_, undergoing some repairs. There were quite a few laser burns on both of them."

"I don't doubt it! They were all that stood between me and several squads of stormtroopers. How are the Rogues?"

A faint smile took root on Tycho's face. "As concerned about you as you are about them."

"Is Corran around?"

Tycho shifted uncomfortably and his grin widened. "Actually, the whole squadron is further down the hall waiting for me to report."

"So you're the advance scout," Wedge snorted.

"Something like that."

"I'd like to see Corran for a few minutes alone before they all pile in, if you don't mind."

"I'll go get him."

Tycho rose out of the chair, but Wedge waved him over before he turned towards the door. "Tycho, thanks for coming after me."

"After all you've done for me, how could I do any less?" He laid his hand on Wedge's shoulder and gave it a squeeze, then headed for the door.

A minute later, Corran Horn entered the room. He stopped just inside the doorway and saluted. Wedge waived the salute away. "Cut it out, Corran, and come over here."

Corran smiled as his hand fell to his side and he quickly crossed the distance between the door and the bed. Wedge got to his feet and gave him a friendly hug, then pulled back and looked at him curiously. "How did you do it?"

"Do what?" Corran looked at him confused.

"Don't give me that," Wedge said, but it came out a little more heated than he would have liked. He took a deep breath to compose himself before continuing. "I felt you up here." He pointed to his own forehead with two fingers from his left hand. "You _willed_ me back to life. I had given up hope, decided that if I had to live with that kind of pain, then maybe I just didn't want to live at all. Then you came and relieved some of that pain. _You_ made me want to fight for my life, Corran. As much as Heblon or anyone else, you saved my life. I was just tired of fighting death alone."

Wedge tried to suppress the emotions that washed over him, but his throat thickened and he had to take a deep shaky breath to keep control.

Corran leaned against the wall beside Wedge's bed, his arms crossed tightly across his chest. "You are one of the most courageous and honorable people I know. There is no one who could have withstood what you went through without giving in to desperation and depression. But you didn't let it overpower you. You may think you did, but I know you're wrong. You knew that we would find you and that you had to survive until we did. You are stronger than you think, Wedge. Don't let a moment's weakness mark you for the rest of your life."

Wedge looked at the floor and thought about what Corran had just said. He had believed through most of his captivity that the Rogues would be looking for him and that if he could survive long enough, they would indeed find him. But after Tchlinda had sliced up his back and the ceremony loomed before him, he had begun to doubt. And that doubt was what ate at him, more than anything Tchlinda could have done to him.

When he thought about it now, it was truly amazing how many people had been looking for him. Tycho, Mirax, and Corran had been doggedly determined to figure out what had happened to him. Wes and Hobbie transferred back to the squadron just so they could help find him. Ajene left her Special Forces group to go with them. Even General Cracken had gone behind the council's back and sent Kell and Face out to help. And perhaps most impressive of all was that Wedge had managed to make such an impression on an Imperial Lieutenant that he defected from their side to his.

"You're a good friend, Corran. And you may be right. But I think you had more to do with it than you may think. You reached me at the exact moment I needed you, when I couldn't bear it any longer. I don't know how you managed it."

"To be honest, neither do I. It was all a dream."

"_What?"_

Corran opened his arms wide. "Okay, so it wasn't _really_ a dream. But it all happened in my sleep. I unconsciously reached out across half a star system to find you. I think maybe the Force led me to you, reaching you when you needed me most."

Wedge leaned against the edge of his bed. If Corran could do something like that in his sleep, he wondered what the younger man would be capable of if he trained to become a full Jedi.

Corran lay a hand on his forearm, and his green eyes looked steadily into Wedge's. "Perhaps better than anyone else, I know what you went through down there. The suffering, the fear, the despair...if you ever need someone to talk to, to get through it..."

"You're one of the first people I'll turn to, Corran, I promise."

"Good. After being in the loving care of an Imperial madwoman myself, I know how you must be feeling right now."

Wedge smiled at him, letting the warmth of their friendship erode yet another small piece of the ache he still felt inside. He nodded his head at the door. "I guess you'd better let the rest of them in before they mutiny."

"Are you sure you're up to it?"

"As long as you don't let Wes in, I suppose so."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that," Corran laughed as he headed out into the passageway to call on his squadmates.

Wedge sat on his bed, ready for yet another ambush.

* * * * * * * *

Mirax sat in the comfortable chair in Wedge's small room, watching as his chest rose and fell while he slept. The squadron had been in to see him a couple of hours before, and although he said he enjoyed the visit, it tired him a great deal.

After much pestering, she had also convinced Ajene to go and get something to eat and some proper rest. The Major had reluctantly agreed, as long as Mirax stayed with him. Ajene had been standing guard over Wedge ever since he had been taken from the tank, sleeping in the chair that Mirax now occupied.

Slowly climbing to her feet, Mirax approached the bed. She reached out and gently tousled Wedge's hair. It was hard to believe that the awkward and shy boy she had known as a child had grown into such an accomplished and remarkable man. A man so well-respected and loved that his many friends had been frantic to find him. She wondered if he realized how well thought of he was.

She remained at his bedside, watching as he slept, when a pair of tremendous arms surrounded her. Without even turning to look, she knew who it was. "Thank you for coming, father. I'm sure you wanted to supervise the repairs the Thyferrans are making on the _Venture_."

She placed her hands over his as he pulled her tightly against him. This was the first time she had seen him since Wedge had been removed from the tank. He had contacted her repeatedly for updates on his status, but had been unable to break away from debriefings and other responsibilities.

"How could I not come?" Booster responded quietly.

He gave Mirax a gentle squeeze, then she pulled away from him. Turning towards him, she looked up into his eyes, both organic and machine. "I can't believe we nearly lost him."

"I know," he replied, turning away from her gaze to look at Wedge. "I know."

She leaned her left cheek against his broad chest, gaining comfort from his familiar scent and presence. "I wanted to thank you again for bringing the _Venture_. I know how much it must have cost you."

"Daughter, if you think that I would choose credits over Wedge, then you are not nearly as smart as I thought I raised you to be." He looked past her to where Wedge lay in his bed, peaceful and innocent. "When you called to tell me that he had been taken prisoner, I knew I had to do everything in my power to help. If anything were to happen to him..."

"We all felt that way."

"No, let me finish." He sighed and leaned down to kiss Mirax on the forehead. He circled his arms around her shoulders and pulled her closer to him, leaning his chin on the top of her head. "You know that there is no one in this galaxy that I love more than you, but when I heard that Wedge was missing, I felt as if a part of my heart had gone missing with him. I realized that I've never really told him how much I care about him, and now that we have him back, I want to make sure to let him know how I feel. To tell him that he's a part of our family."

"You don't have to tell me that, Booster. I knew it all along."

Mirax turned and saw that Wedge was awake, looking up at them. "How long have you been listening?" she asked him.

"Long enough." He pulled himself up into a sitting position. Mirax could tell from the way he moved that he was still weak and worn out. "I've always known how you felt, whether you expressed it verbally or not. While I was imprisoned, I thought often of my mother and father, how much their death has marked me and changed my life. And I realized that however much I felt alone in this galaxy, I always had you and Mirax to turn to. After my parents were killed, it was you who took me in, Booster. You didn't have to, but you did. I shudder to think what might have happened to me had you not."

Mirax moved over to Wedge and took his hand in hers. He placed his other hand over the top of their intertwined fingers. Booster came up behind her, swallowing hard before speaking. "You've turned out better than even I could have hoped for, Wedge. But I don't think that has anything to do with me. Your parents did a good job of raising you before they died."

Wedge looked up at Booster, obviously struggling with the emotions that surfaced whenever he thought about the death of his parents. "I guess they did. But ever since that time, you've been like a father to me, guiding and helping me on my path through life the way that I hope my father would have. Knowing that you are proud of me gives me hope that he would have been as well. I realize that I've never told you this, I wasn't able to before, but I love you as a father. And I hoped that you would think of me as your son."

Booster moved beside Mirax, and took Wedge's free hand in his, while draping his other arm over his daughter's shoulder. Mirax brushed away the tears that had begun to roll down her cheeks. Unable to speak, she looked over at her father. Though she couldn't be sure, she thought that she saw tears forming in his one organic eye. 


	36. Chapter 36

**36**

"Why is that every time we go out for dinner, there ends up being at least fifteen people with us?"

Ajene reached over and ran a finger along the line of Wedge's jaw and smiled at him. "That's because you are so well liked and adored. Your admirers follow you wherever you go."

"Ha!" Wes Janson slapped his hand on the tabletop, bouncing dishes. "Ajene, I think you're mixing Wedge and I up."

"I don't think that would ever be possible," Hobbie grumbled from his seat to Wes's left.

"And just what does that mean?" Wes asked slowly, turning to face him.

"Oh, I think you know." Hobbie smirked at him. Wes threw a half eaten bread roll in his direction, but Hobbie skillfully caught it and returned it to the table.

Tycho, who was sitting between Wedge and Wes, stood suddenly, pushing up off the table with his hands. "That's it. I've had enough. Major Janson, attention!"

Wes automatically stood, his shoulders and back military straight. It was the proper posture to assume while at attention, except he had a huge grin plastered on his face.

"Major, take one step to your left." Tycho moved out of the way as Wes stepped over to stand at Tycho's place at the table. "Now sit and shut up."

Wes sat in Tycho's chair, while Tycho sat in between him and Hobbie. "There. Now maybe the _adults_ can have a decent conversation."

Mirax, sitting between Corran and Ajene, laughed. "See, I told you the squadron was full of children."

Tycho chuckled. "Yeah, but only the Majors on down."

Corran's head came up. "Hey! On behalf of the Captains of the unit, I resent that remark!"

Gavin, further down the rectangular table and another Rogue Captain, sniggered. "Corran, I think you mean we _resemble_ that remark."

Booster, sitting down near the far end of the table, looked up from his conversation with Captain Assay and opened his mouth to say something. But before he could, Mirax spoke up, pointing a finger at him. "Don't say a word, father. I'm warning you."

"Why, daughter, you would think that I would have something disparaging to say about your husband. Don't you trust me?"

Corran laughed. "That's a loaded question if ever I heard one."

Wedge sighed contentedly and sank back into his chair as Booster fought in vain to defend himself. It was good to be back.

Heblon, on Corran's right, smiled at Wedge. "Are they always like this?"

Corran leaned over and whispered something into Heblon's ear and the former Imperial laughed. Wedge found it remarkable how friendly he and Corran had become over the last couple of days. They had developed a tight bond in a short amount of time, and Wedge was sure that meant trouble.

Wes sat up and pointed his fork at Corran. "Hey, no whispering. I want to hear."

Corran groaned. "I just said that you were actually on your best behavior today because we had Tonar here as a guest."

"Oh, that's okay then," Wes said, and returned to his meal.

Ajene leaned forward onto the table to look past Mirax. "Tonar, where are you going from here? Are you coming back to Coruscant with us tomorrow?"

"Yes, but I won't be staying there long. General Cracken has managed to pull some strings to get me assigned to a medical frigate. I ship out from Coruscant a few days after we arrive."

Wedge tilted forward, putting an arm around Ajene's shoulders. He found it a little odd that since his return he had fewer reservations about showing his affection for her in public. But that was a mystery for another day. "I thought you were going to try and find another colony who needed a doctor."

"I was thinking about it. But I've been in the military for a number of years now, and I've become accustomed to it. Besides, after having you as a patient, Wedge, it would take more than a colony's aches and pains to challenge me."

Tycho coughed lightly into his hand. "Uh, speaking of challenges, I have some bad news, Wedge."

"Oh, no. Do I want to know?" he asked.

"I'm afraid that Wes and Hobbie have asked to be permanently assigned to Rogue Squadron."

"Do I get any say in this?" Wedge said.

"Since I am technically still in command of the squadron, not really. I sent the request on to Starfighter Command and they saw fit to approve it. Wasn't that nice of them?"

Corran leaned over and whispered to Heblon again. The doctor blurted out a laugh, then covered his mouth. Wedge looked at them as they both chuckled.

"Now what?" Wedge asked.

Corran was laughing so hard that he couldn't speak, so Heblon spoke up.

"Oh, nothing..._Veggies!"_

_  
_

The End
    
    The saga continues in X-wing: Betrayal
    --coming soon--


End file.
